RIP Dolly Parton

Dolly Parton passed away at the age of 80. This is very sad news indeed, because Dolly Parton was the living embodiment of goodness. Among many, many other things, she made great music, she always came across as a thoroughly pleasant person in interviews and suchlike, she was an incredible ally to LGBTQ+ folks, she was responsible for millions of books being distributed for free to youngsters across the world, and above all, she was proof that you can be rich, beautiful, famous and not a shitty person in the slightest, all at the same time.

There seems to be some sort of unspoken assumption that you can only be a maximum of three of those at the same time (and it's usually rich, beautiful and famous) but Dolly proved that there was, in fact, no obligation to become a total piece of shit just because you were loaded.

Apparently Dolly's family has requested that in lieu of flowers and other memorials/condolences, people make a donation to the Dolly Parton's Imagination Library organisation. I've done just that, and I encourage you to consider doing so also. It is fitting that her generosity and selflessness continues even after her passing.

That's about all I am able to say on the subject for the minute, but I wanted to mark the occasion, at least.

Manic Miner's getting a dogshit-looking "remake"

I'll let you into a not-so-secret, dear reader: I don't think ZX Spectrum classic Manic Miner is very good. It has music that makes you want to tear your ears off, visuals that are… functional at best, gameplay that is unnecessarily infuriating and a difficulty curve that is more like a vertical wall, meaning I'm sure there are a significant number of people who have never seen beyond the first screen. There are many, many better single-screen platformers on 8-bit home computers — some of my favourites are Mr Robot and His Robot Factory and Miner 2049'er — and yet a lot of them just don't get their dues, while Manic Miner is consistently held up as an all-time classic. And don't even get me started on Jet Set Willy.

Anyway, BBG Entertainment GmbH — the people who have done some Boulder Dash reboots that are… not bad gameplay wise but kind of dogshit aesthetically — have decided what the world needs is a Manic Miner remake. And, moreover, they decided what a Manic Miner remake really needed was some absolute dog-arse generative AI for its visuals, trailer, pretty much everything. Including one of the most laughable "CRT filters" I think I have ever seen. Not only that, they have been very quiet on whether or not any AI has actually been used, by which I mean there is no AI usage disclosure on the game's Steam page.

(Yes, comments are disabled on YouTube, before you go and check.)

And, I mean, come on. Look at it. Look at it. Even the "retro" screens are wrong in terms of layout! Fuck's sake. If this isn't generative AI, they need to fire their art person. But let's face it, they probably already did that, which is why this has happened.

This isn't the first company doing some sort of "retro revival" who has shat out AI-generated garbage artwork all over a property that actually means something to some people and then denied that they have done so. Hey, I don't like Manic Miner at all, but I know plenty of people who do, and I feel bad for them to see garbage like this.

I've said it many, many times before, but I cannot fucking wait for this goddamn bubble to pop so we can be free of this never-ending torrent of shit.

Commodore is putting out a Cyberpunk 2077-themed C64 Ultimate

Why? In what world does this make any sense as a crossover? Plus with the relabelled keys it looks like a nightmare from a usability perspective, too. But I'm sure someone somewhere will buy it, then leave it in a box on a shelf and, roughly every 6 months or so, mention on all the Discord servers they're in, with an odd amount of pride, that they bought it and have never actually unpacked it.

Burnout Revenge

I have been feeling a bit burnt out on YouTube of late. I put out a video on Terranigma that I thought was a good adaptation of my article on MoeGamer, and it has performed like crap, even with yesterday's announcement of the Terranigma remake. I just don't even know before. YouTube is so incredibly unpredictable over what does well and what does poorly, and sometimes these things change massively over time, too. I have stuff that I put out several years ago which performed poorly to modestly on their original release, but which now has thousands of views — and I have stuff that I worked hard on and was very proud of which has done less than a hundred views. And there doesn't seem to be a lot of rhyme or reason to it — and, to be frank, I can't really be arsed to chase the why.

I feel like at some point I have drifted away from the things that used to have me fired up about doing things on YouTube. I have wanted to incorporate a much broader spectrum of things to reflect my own interests, but aside from a couple of standout exceptions to the rule, I don't feel that experiment has really been much of a success. And it's getting me down a bit; I don't particularly want or need YouTube to be a "big thing" for me, but it is nice when you do something and more than a handful of people appreciate what you do.

So I'm going to take a break from YouTube completely until I come back from holiday in mid-September, and at that time I'm going to do a sort of soft reboot back to some things I used to do, only with a bit more in the way of knowledge that I've picked up in the intervening years since I did them first time around. Specifically, I think I'm going to bring back Atari A to Z and Atari ST A to Z, because those series had a nice sense of structure to them, they were easy to produce but could result in a combination of celebrating big hits and discovering new favourites — and, perhaps most importantly, I really enjoyed making them.

Beyond that, I'll likely still do some occasional "scripted" videos when I feel like it, and perhaps some Evercade games, too, but so far as stuff outside of my "core" subject matter of Atari home computer stuff, it will be the exception rather than the norm. I basically built my audience for that channel on Atari-related videos, and I wonder if attempting to branch out to other platforms has just basically caused YouTube to go "we don't know what this channel is any more", meaning things like my Terranigma video just… go nowhere.

That's the plan, anyway. I will be using the things I've learned about thumbnail design and all that good stuff — plus continue with my current channel branding — and get things back to basics. At least then if only a handful of people watch my stuff, I know it's because they're genuinely interested in what I'm doing, rather than picking up on trends.

So yeah. Watch out for that in mid-September. In the meantime, go watch my Terranigma video. It'd be nice to at least get the sodding thing over 100 views.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 809: Dolly, Willy and... uh... silly? appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

For the unfamiliar, Atarimania is a place where you can go to look up pretty much any piece of software that has ever been released on an Atari platform. It probably gets the most use for those who are interested in the 8-bit and ST ranges of home computers, but it also has substantial console sections for the 2600, 5200, 7800, Lynx and Jaguar, though some of these are still under construction at the time of writing..

Most entries provide some helpful historical information about the piece of software in question, including the date of release (often just a year, as back in the day we apparently weren't quite as fastidious about recording the exact dates things released), the people who worked on it (with hyperlinks allowing you to quickly see what else they worked on) and various other bits and bobs of information. Many entries also allow you to download cartridge ROM files or disk images for the software in question, too, allowing you to quickly load it up in an emulator or even get it up and running on real hardware or an FPGA solution.

One of my favourite parts of Atarimania is the magazine section, which is full of PDF archives for a variety of publications. Some of these are specialist Atari 8-bit and ST magazines (including Page 6/New Atari User, which my Dad, my brother and I all wrote for at various points), but there are also things like Activision's Activisions newsletter, enthusiast user group zines and even some multi-format mags that happened to cover Atari, like Advanced Computer Entertainment (aka ACE), which was a favourite magazine of mine back in the day. It's a wonderful source of authentic information from back when this stuff was current, and it's been a godsend for me when putting together videos.

Atarimania's redesign doesn't reinvent the site's functionality. So far as I am aware, the exact same information is being presented, just with a new look. Notably, it's mobile-friendly now, which it didn't used to be, which makes quickly accessing information on the fly much more convenient than it once was. I'll have to spend some time digging into it all, but from my brief look this evening, it all looks great.

Every time I look at Atarimania, I find myself wishing that a similar resource existed for other platforms. The C64 and Amiga have something similar in the form of Lemon64 and LemonAmiga respectively, the Spectrum has World of Spectrum and the other one I always forget the name of, and I'm sure others exist for other platforms. But for me, none of them quite match Atarimania for sheer comprehensiveness — and I also think that there's a real gap in the market for something similar, but for consoles. Like, I would absolutely love to see a SNESMania, a MasterSystemMania, a MegaDriveMania and suchlike. To my knowledge, nothing quite like that exists right now for console platforms — and I don't really know anything about creating a database-driven website like that, otherwise I would consider looking into it myself. If these sites do exist, they're not anywhere near as well-known as Atarimania is for Atari enthusiasts.

There's MobyGames, of course, and that is definitely a valuable, helpful resource, but it's not quite the same thing.

Anyway, eternal respect to anyone who builds and maintains this sort of thing. You help make the retro gaming hobby that much more enjoyable to participate in — and turbonerds like me happy when we need to research things. Please keep doing what you do forever!

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The post #oneaday Day 807: Atarimania got a new look appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

For some reason, a lot of people making animated series seem to have fallen into the trap of thinking there is only one way you can possibly make this sort of thing: irony-poisoned "adult animation" with a complete lack of sincerity and earnestness. And it fucking sucks!

Now, I'm not someone who swears off the sort of genre-savvy, quasi-fourth wall-breaking meta-comedy style as an automatic and immediate matter of course. There is a time and place for that sort of thing; we call it parody. Right now, I have been casually playing Agents of Mayhem by Volition, which is a spinoff of the Saints Row series that focuses on a band of gun-toting superheroes. It is full of this sort of humour, and it works because the whole thing is set up to be a parody of a particular genre. You go in expecting that sort of thing, and it delivers. You have to be in the right mood for it, but it is not throwing any particular curveballs.

Hell, it doesn't even have to be parody. I still enjoy Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, even though series creator Joss Whedon apparently turned out to be a bit of a dildo, to say the least. People who complain about the dialogue in modern Marvel movies often accuse them of being full of "Whedonisms", and that may be a fair point, given his involvement in several of them — but in the context of Buffy and Angel, again, this sort of humour worked, because it was a bunch of kids saying it, and in turn that made it highly quotable in the playground.

Star Trek: Lower Decks is another great example. I thought I was going to hate this series after the first episode, which was pretty "wacky", but I kept watching out of curiosity and was pleasantly surprised to discover a series with a lot of genuine heart, soul and sincerity — plus an appreciation of and admiration for Trek canon. Sure, it had its silly moments — a lot more than in most of the live-action shows — but it struck a good balance, and at no point did it feel like it was designed primarily to mock its source material maliciously.

But, like, Golden Axe? This is a beloved arcade game that, in its original form, played things reasonably straight for the most part, at least until its ending sequence. Sure, it had its silly elements like the treasure goblins and the weird mount creatures, but it's clear what the intent was: make a game designed in the style of pulp fantasy, complete with loincloth-clad barbarians, bikini-clad female warriors and hairy dwarves.

When you adapt something like this in the obnoxiously referential, wise-cracking "adult animation" style popularised by shows like Family Guy, you just put across the feeling that you don't respect the source material at all; there seems to be an unspoken assumption that if the creators of this show took Golden Axe seriously, then no-one, in turn, would take this animated series seriously.

You could make the argument that Golden Axe, as a franchise, didn't really have much meat on the bones in terms of narrative in the first place, and you'd probably be right about that. But there's more than enough there to act as a basis for something more — and perhaps to build something genuinely interesting which uses the lore that does exist as a starting point. That could have been cool! There aren't that many good fantasy-themed shows out right now other than Game of Thrones and its spinoff, House of the Dragon, and those are very much an acquired taste (not to mention the poster children for "dark fantasy", which is distinct from more traditional approaches to fantasy) — and there's definitely scope for one in the animated space. Remember stuff like Xena: Warrior Princess? Golden Axe could have been a new Xena: Warrior Princess, but animated!

But no. Instead we get a show that just feels like everyone involved with it has complete and utter contempt for the fantasy genre, for the source material, and for the audience. And I don't really know why! It's not as if animated adaptations which take potentially rather silly source material seriously don't exist — look at Castlevania! That turned out great! It managed to tell a compelling, serious, earnest story with interesting characters and even incorporate some humour without it all feeling forced and filled with such a sense of not giving a shit.

I guess ultimately it's no real skin off my nose, because with Golden Axe being on Paramount+, I'm not going to watch it — and I'm certainly not going to make an effort to seek out some alternative means of watching it (be that official or "unofficial"), based on that trailer. It's just frustrating that this sort of thing is so very predictable; it makes it difficult to have any excitement for announcements of potentially interesting adaptations of video game properties into other forms of media, and very easy to be cynical.

I can't say I was particularly hungry for an animated adaptation of Golden Axe generally — and thus, honestly, I'd rather they hadn't bothered at all than come out with this predictable nonsense.

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The post #oneaday Day 804: More like Golden Shower appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I mean, sure. I won't deny that my various dalliances with social media — particularly the "public-facing" kind such as Twitter (as it was before… what it is now) and Bluesky — have exposed me to people I might not have otherwise had the opportunity to get to know, and even allowed me to make some friends… I think, anyway.

But sometimes I find myself wondering if there's a reason I might not have come into contact with certain types of people were it not for the "global town square" nature of public-facing social media. I am starting to feel, looking at my Bluesky feed, like I felt when I first fell out of love with Twitter. It feels less about the conversation, sharing and making new friends, and more about performatively saying the right things in order to ensure that you are seen as a "good person" with the "correct" opinions. And I'm really fuckin' tired of that shit.

I won't go into specific examples right now, because that will date this post immediately — plus I'm not altogether keen in getting embroiled in the current "discussions", however indirectly — but suffice it to say for the moment that as soon as you start feeling genuine trepidation about saying certain things, lest the Mob pounce on you for something you might not have actually intended from what you said, then that's the time you should probably start thinking about how you are using social media, and how you might be able to make it better for yourself.

The simple answer is, of course, mute, unfollow or even block the people who are making you feel that way. On Bluesky in particular, the "nuclear block" function means that it is hard (though not impossible) for anyone you have blocked to check up on what you are saying. But on the other hand, I feel like blocking sends a certain message that perhaps isn't exactly what you intend; there's an inherent message of disapproval to it that might not be what you want to say; the same is true for unfollowing, to an arguably slightly lesser extent.

Probably the subtlest approach you can take is just to mute someone who is irritating you, but who you don't particularly want to send that message of disapproval to by blocking them. No-one knows when you've muted them, and you don't see their posts come up in your feed; you may, however, see that there have been posts from accounts you have muted, and the temptation is always to click that thing to see exactly what people have been saying. It's rarely anything worthwhile, and yet still we click. We always must click.

The trouble I find is that a lot of the absolute most insufferable people on social media are also people that I originally followed because I'm interested in the thing that their account suggested was their main interest! But at some point you have to ask the question: "am I still following this person out of a sense of obligation or the increasingly vain hope that they will post about the thing I followed them for, or because I want to see what they are actually posting on an hourly basis?" If the answer is the former, unfollowing or muting them is probably a good idea. Particularly if they aren't following you, in which case they probably won't even notice your absence.

But then that can, itself, be a bit disheartening. It can sometimes be frustrating to post something that I've worked hard on over on Bluesky and it seemingly pass by completely unnoticed, and then post some inane throwaway reply to someone about AI boosters being garbage people and get non-stop notifications of people liking and reposting that ultimately meaningless message for the next three days.

I think I'm just not built for social media. But, paradoxically, it's one of the only means I feel like I have of being able to connect with other people these days. And it sucks that it's that way. The alternative is just being alone, and I don't really want to do that — because I feel like I've proven beyond a doubt over the course of the last few years that if I just disappear quietly, absolutely no-one seems to notice or gives a shit.

And so, ever onward, until the end of time, I Post. Not because I want to, or because I enjoy it, but because I feel like I have to; like that is the only option to prove one's existence.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 799: The exhausting town square appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

At some point, my then-wife and I made the decision to move back to Southampton. I forget exactly what the reasons for us doing this was — it may have been the fact that I had got a job at the then-new Apple Store in the WestQuay shopping centre, or it may have been some other reason — but regardless, we found ourselves coming back to Southampton, initially in a ground-floor flat in an area on what I will always think of as "the far side" of Southampton, known as Sholing.

My enduring memory of living in this place will always be, on our day moving in, walking in to the Indian takeaway that was next door to the block we lived in — as everyone knows, British moving days are fuelled by takeaway curry — and the proprietor of said establishment bellowing "WELCOME TO THE SHOLING!" as we walked in. It was a great little takeaway, that place, and I was always grateful for the warm welcome the owner provided.

We rented that flat off a woman who had a cat. We kind of wanted a cat, but we had lived in so many rented places that didn't allow pets that we didn't think to ask if we could have a cat. When we moved out, the landlady said that not only would she have been more than happy for us to have a cat in that flat, we could have had her cat. I'm still not entirely sure how to feel about that.

Anyway, it was a nice flat with some big rooms and a lovely oversized comfy sofa in the living room. My "study" of sorts, where the computer lived, was also a utility room, so I had to share space with the tumble dryer. My Sony Vaio desktop PC, which had been a loyal companion for a number of years, died in that flat, which I was annoyed about, because it was a great system. But one day it just started inexplicably screeching at me, and that was that. I eventually ended up replacing it with an iMac, which I got for a generous discount thanks to working at the Apple store.

At some point, we moved out of that flat. Again, I don't entirely remember why, but we ended up moving into the town centre of Southampton, into what appeared to be quite a new block of apartments. It was a really nice flat with a huge living room, a massive kitchen and a generously sized bedroom. It was a very comfortable place to live, with the only real hiccup being that one day I came home to the sound of rushing water downstairs in the block. It turned out the basement was flooding from somewhere, which ultimately knocked out the power in the whole building and meant I had to spend several days staying on a friend's sofa.

However, this is also the flat where my first wife and I parted ways, so as nice as it was, it will always be the most bittersweet of past places I lived, and the subject of a number of posts from around that time.

Due to a perfect storm of unfortunate circumstances, including not only the end of my marriage but also being bullied out of a job that I once loved, I ended up unable to stay in that lovely flat by myself, and having to temporarily move back in with my parents. At the time, I was mortified at the prospect of having to do this; today, I am eternally grateful for the fact they supported me while I picked myself up after such a massive setback.

While living back in my childhood home — which was still familiar despite having changed a bit — I eventually ended up meeting Andie, my now-wife. Both of us had experienced a somewhat challenging period in our respective lives, and ended up finding one another at what appeared to be a good time. I was also in the process of building a new career at that time, and I was gradually getting to a point where I felt I would be able to support myself again. So Andie and I eventually agreed to move in together.

We ended up moving to Chippenham in Wiltshire, which was near to where Andie was working at the time, and since I was working from home, I could do that from anywhere with an Internet connection. We had a nice house there, and were greeted almost immediately by the two cats who lived next door, Artie and Chester. Chester was a black cat who liked sitting on suitcases, and Artie was a long-haired tabby who liked shouting at towels. The pair of them were absolutely lovely cats who paid us a visit on many occasions, and we always welcomed them in.

During our time at Chippenham, we also decided that, in the absence of being able to have our own cats, we would try keeping rats, and we discovered the joy of these little creatures — as well as their sadly short lifespans. Also the smell, which you soon get used to. During our time at Chippenham, we had a wonderful time with Willow (who sadly did not live very long as she was quite poorly), Lara and Lucy.

Our house in Chippenham is another place I have somewhat mixed feelings about, as both Andie and I were facing numerous challenges in our own lives at that point in time — among other things, I lost my job at GamePro when we all logged in one morning to find out the parent company had unceremoniously laid us all off — and also there was apparently a murder in the Sainsbury's car park that was, like, two minutes away from our house.

Our next move was, once again for me, a return to Southampton. We found ourselves a lovely flat whose only mild inconvenience was the fact it was on the third floor, which made moving everything in a bit of a pain. We ended up having to buy a whole new sofa because the one we had bought while we were at Chippenham simply wouldn't go up the staircase; it lived in the garage for a whole year, and thankfully survived, though we ended up replacing it some time later.

This flat, I have fond memories of. Both Andie and I had overcome some significant troubles in our own lives, and things started to seem like they were getting back on track. I still wasn't in what I would call a position of stable employment, but I was getting by, initially by writing about odious mobile and social games, and subsequently being a founder staff member of the now-defunct USgamer.

We also still kept rats in this flat — Lucy, Clover and Socks — though after the last survivor of the various pairs we had cared for, our dear Clover, hung in there for a lot longer than we expected she would, we decided that we should maybe take a little break from keeping pets. It was sad to eventually say goodbye to Clover, but we feel like she stuck around for us even as she got old and life clearly became a bit harder for her.

Eventually circumstances dictated that Andie and I would be in a position to actually buy a house instead of renting, and that's how we ended up where we are now — and have been here for over ten years at this point. This is officially the longest I have lived in one place for, except for my childhood home. As I said yesterday, we're not ruling out moving someplace a bit bigger some time — just not yet — and we've done a lot to make this place into our home — not least of which is having cats. The dearly departed Ruby and Meg will always be in our hearts, and Patti and Oliver bring us so much joy in the here and now I cannot imagine ever being without such wonderful companions again.

I've lived in many places over the years. All of them hold their own memories, both good and bad. All of them have helped make me into the person I am today, for better or worse, and I'm sure I will always remember them all.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 798: Home is where the heart has been, part 2 appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Every so often, I like to think back over the various places I've lived, because they all have different memories attached to them. Some memories are good; some are bad. Most are good. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that I do have good memories at every place I've lived; it's just that some happen to have more bad memories to go along with them than others.

My first house that I lived in is the only one I don't remember at all, because we moved away when I was just one year old or so. We kept a vague attachment to the area in which it was, though, because some friends of my parents still lived in that area, and one of them was also our family dentist. When we'd go to visit these friends, my parents would often point out the house in which we used to live, but while it was interesting to know, I felt no real attachment to it. I felt more attachment to the homes of these friends, as we visited them quite a few times in my youth.

The next place I lived is the house my parents still live in to this day. That house will always be "home" more than anywhere else, I think. It's a nice house with an unusual split-level design, with the living room on a "middle" floor between the ground floor and the floor with all the bedrooms on it, and a garage that is below the ground floor, but still above ground, if that makes sense. (To put it another way, you go up some steps to get to the front door, and the garage is on the level where those steps start.)

My parents have made a few changes to that house over the years, but it's mostly still the house I grew up in. A bit older, a bit dustier, but most of the things I will always remember about it are still in the same place they always have been, and looking the same as they always have done. The cupboard where the biscuits are still squeaks incredibly loudly — we used to joke it was an "alarm" for someone "biccy-nicking" — and the upstairs toilet flush mechanism still doesn't quite work properly.

The first place I moved to after leaving home for university was a halls of residence. Well, technically I spent a week staying in another halls of residence for a pre-term music course, but I consider that more of a "trip" than actually "moving in" there. The place I spent a week was a bit of a shithole, being an old tower block that has, at some point in the intervening years, been demolished. The place where I spent my first year of university, however, was really nice.

It was a brand new complex when we moved in, meaning that everything was clean and in good condition. Remarkably, it was still clean and in good condition when we moved out, as the occupants of our flat were all pretty considerate about such things. Okay, most of us occasionally let the washing up pile up a bit, but we eventually all settled into a routine of keeping things neat and tidy in the communal kitchen, then if we wanted our rooms to be a pigsty we could. But since they were pretty nice rooms, none of us did.

I have fond memories of living in that flat, even if it's unthinkable now that I once lived out of a single en-suite room that was my own, along with a communal kitchen. It was good times with good people, and I was enjoying being at university. I have a few memories from there that make me wince slightly out of embarrassment, but on the whole I have no real bad memories there whatsoever.

In my second year, we all moved out into houses and flats around the city. I had agreed to move in with a friend's girlfriend (who was also my friend; the boyfriend in question was going to university in another city) and we had a fair amount of trouble finding a decent place for an affordable amount of rent; I forget exactly why, but I do remember it being a stressful time finding it.

Eventually we found a flat that looked pretty nice, but was in fairly shabby, dirty condition when we viewed it. The landlord promised that it would be cleaned up in time for us to move in. It very much was not, which meant that our moving in day was mostly spent cleaning. We eventually got it looking presentable, though, and once we were settled, it was a nice flat with absolutely enormous rooms. There was a huge living room at one end, then down a corridor there were the two bedrooms: my friend's first, then mine at the far end.

Oddly, my most vivid memories of living in this flat are of the fact that I lived two minutes' walk away from a Blockbuster Video, and quite often went in there to buy games and DVDs. I remember plucking up the courage to buy an erotic Kathy Lloyd Playboy DVD on one occasion, but I also remember buying Baldur's Gate II and Diablo II there.

This flat was a fair distance away from both the university and the rest of my friends, so I quite often spent time "couch-surfing", staying over at various people's houses so I didn't have to walk all the way home. My flatmate was quite often away to visit her boyfriend, so during those times, rather than sit all on my own, I would tend to spend my time with friends.

In my third year of university, we again found ourselves having trouble finding a place — but this time we lucked out by finding an absolutely lovely house that was incredibly cheap rent-wise. Sure, it was in a notoriously fairly shitty area, but the house was in excellent condition, and the landlords didn't seem to be scam artists. It was also, to date, the only house I have lived in that literally looked like the drawing of a house you draw if you can't draw a house. (See illustration.) That year, I was supposed to have a second housemate along with my friend's girlfriend, but despite always paying her rent and bills on time, she never even moved in. I don't know what happened there — and I was mildly gutted, as I quite fancied her — but still, she helped keep that house nice and affordable for the two of us, so we were grateful!

Again, I have fond memories of this house. There was a nice TV cabinet in the living room, where I put my enormous CRT TV that I bought from a second-hand shop in Portswood. It was surrounded by shelves, where I put my new PS2, and I vividly remember a friend of mine, upon visiting, telling me how much he loved the blue LED on the eject button. It is pretty nice, to be fair.

We didn't mow the lawn once during our time at that house. Well, not until it was approaching time to leave, at which point we discovered why you should mow your lawn more than once a year.

My most enduring memory of that particular house is probably my friends coming down and bringing a copy of the newly released Silent Hill 2 with them. I was given the task of playing it while the others watched, but the pair of them both fell asleep after a hearty curry and some relatively heavy drinking, and only woke up as I was rolling credits on the "In Water" ending.

We also had NTL cable in that house. I remember signing up for one night of the Adult Channel and setting the VCR to record it all. I also remember being mildly disappointed in the overall quality of the smut on the resulting tape, but it served its purpose.

In my fourth year of university, my friend had moved on, so I was moving in with a new friend I'd made through the university Theatre Group, along with some other people she knew but I didn't. We found a really lovely house that, again, was very affordable. It had a weirdly narrow kitchen, though, and a strange arrangement at the back where there was a standalone toilet, then a bathroom next to it. These were both on the ground floor, behind the kitchen. It was a very odd arrangement, but we learned to live with it.

One unfortunate memory I have of that place is, being the first one there, thinking I had pick of the rooms and thus picking the big one at the front. I subsequently found out that my friend had bagsied that room first, but I had already moved all my stuff in by then. She didn't seem to mind getting the room next door. She laid down laminate flooring as the first thing she did when she arrived. She was… like that.

I have good memories of that house, despite the fact that I didn't really interact with any of the other residents. My friend was absolutely never there, and I didn't really know the other two guys at all. I was intimidated by the one who was growing weed in his wardrobe, and the other one just gave no indication whatsoever that he really wanted to get to know me at all. They all seemed to appreciate my big TV and surround sound system in the living room, though.

I spent a lot of time drinking wine and… enjoying the company of someone who was quite special to me at that house. We'd drink until we were giggly, watch Spaced and Black Books on repeat, and… well, other stuff, too. It was nice, though I ended up wanting more from the arrangement than she did. Still, I have no regrets.

After finally finishing university, I moved to Winchester with someone I knew from my music course, who was training to be a midwife. We were extremely fortunate in this case to find a gorgeous flat almost in the dead centre of Winchester. It was fully furnished — and well furnished — and just a beautiful, beautiful place. We absolutely loved living there, but we could only enjoy it for a year, because after that the landlord decided that they wanted it back so their kid could live in it, which I suppose is all right.

I fitted an extension phone socket in that flat, without any consideration of the fact that I probably wasn't allowed to hammer that many pins into the walls of a flat I didn't own. Still, I wouldn't have been able to access the Internet if I didn't do that, and given that I was having my first contact with Final Fantasy XI around that time, I needed that Internet connection.

Probably my fondest memory of that particular flat is one I've shared numerous times before: the time I had several friends over to play LAN party Halo, and we all got drunk and took our shirts off. My housemate came home in the middle of all this, took one look at the living room full of half-naked, drunk men and declared the game "Gaylo" which, you know, fair.

It was in this flat I was first starting to have doubts about teaching — the career I had, at that time, chosen. While I never developed a problem as such, there were numerous evenings when I would seek, shall we say, chemical comfort after a particularly hard and trying day. Mostly gin and tonic, though a friend did once leave me an "emergency joint" that I made use of on one particular evening that felt like an emergency, only to discover it was so strong that after finishing it, I immediately threw up (in the toilet) and then passed out on the couch. To be fair, after that I wasn't thinking about the day I'd just had at the chalkface.

After being turfed out of that flat, we moved into a strange little cottage that backed onto a little river, quite close to the previous flat, so we didn't have to move far. It was in a bit of an awkward location on the Winchester ring road, though, and it subsequently transpired that the place was full of damp and mould that the landlady tried to blame on us when we eventually moved out. My housemate, who doesn't take shit from anyone, took her to court and… resolved the situation. I don't know exactly what went down, but I know we did eventually get our deposits back.

It was while I was living in that house that I met my first wife online, and after she moved back to the UK after spending some time abroad, she would often come down to visit and stay. As a result, I have some bittersweet memories of that time; I think enough time has passed now that they err mostly on the side of "sweet", to be honest, but I do know that my housemate did not like my wife-to-be very much. Still, it never came to a confrontation or anything, so that's all right, I guess.

After that, my wife-to-be and I moved away from Southampton so we could both be close to the schools in which we were working, which were in Surrey. Our new flat was technically in a shitty area, but it was actually a really lovely place; some sort of huge converted single-floor house with enormously high ceilings and massive rooms.

It was while we were living at this house that I had a nervous breakdown and finally determined once and for all that teaching was not, in fact, my chosen career. (That didn't stop me trying again once more later, but I recognised the signs and escaped from that before anything bad happened.) It's a shame, because my memories of this place are otherwise nice; it was a lovely place to live, and I was sorry to have to leave it.

You know what? That's two and a half thousand words, so I think I'm going to call time there and ponder the rest tomorrow. This has been a fun exercise, though, so join me tomorrow as I remember other places I have lived! Gosh, I bet you can't wait.

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The post #oneaday Day 797: Home is where the heart has been, part 1 appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I am having an evening off from exercise. I bought some dumbbells and have been using those in alternation with my walks out on the Common. This appears to be a good thing, though my complete lack of any weight training whatsoever for a good long while now means that I have proven myself correct in purchasing a fairly low-impact set to get up and running with. I can definitely feel when I've used them, too, which is probably the most satisfying thing about weight training — that feeling that you've actually done something, and that you can now enjoy a rest while your body recovers.

Some combination of the exercise and the calorie counting is paying off, too — in the last two weeks I've lost about 6 pounds, and I'm currently the lowest weight I've been for quite some time. I still have a very long way to go, of course, but it is encouraging to feel like I am working past what, in my mind, has been a bit of a plateau for some time.

The trouble I've had in the past is just sticking with it and remaining motivated — it's all too easy to reach a point where you're just knackered and want to throw up your hands and say "fuck it, I'm going to eat an entire bag of Haribo". You can get away with that occasionally — even within the context of a calorie-controlled diet! — but if you start doing it, like, a lot, then that's when you start having difficulty. And that is something I've struggled with in the past; my motivation fell off, I plunged back into bad habits, and any good work I might have done ended up undone, often with additional "damage" on top.

No more, though! He says, aware that he very seriously contemplated getting McDonald's for lunch today. But then here's the thing: there's absolutely nothing stopping me having a McDonald's for lunch, so long as I build the rest of my day around that and don't go overly crazy with what I order. Today, having resisted the McDonald's lunch and having been fairly restrained generally, I have been able to have Quite A Few Digestive biscuits without any guilt whatsoever. And it's nice to feel like I have the flexibility to be able to do that.

I'm aware that right now, my relatively generous calorie allowance is given to me due to the fact that I am large and thus need more calories to just… function. Over time, as I lose weight and approach something more akin to a regular human being's proportions, that calorie allowance will drop. And I won't lie, I'm a little bit concerned about that, because right now I can very easily fill my current allowance and even feel like I want a bit more. But at the same time, I'm also aware that as you change and establish habits and different ways of thinking, the things that you think you "need" will change, too. Once I am smaller, I will need fewer calories to simply remain upright, and — I hope — will thus feel proportionally less inclined to consume a lot of calories.

I've already found that following the diet for a relatively protracted period of time results in my appetite being a lot less than it is when I'm at my worst — and I'm sure that pattern will continue, particularly if I can continue to develop the self-discipline I need. It's that more than anything; I'm sure that I have done a fair amount of "self-medicating" with food over the years, and that, as much as anything else, has contributed to how I am today. If I can develop alternative coping mechanisms that have a more healthy outcome, so much the better.

So yes. Anyway, upshot of all this is that I'm quite tired this evening after doing some dumbbells yesterday and a walk the day before, so I'm having the evening off with no guilt.

Oh, also I guess there was a solar eclipse this evening, too, so that's cool. The moon didn't explode, so I guess the chap who went into that pyramid back in 1930 successfully destroyed the shrine to Re. Good job, that man. I could never manage it.

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The post #oneaday Day 796: Midweek appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

On my walks on the Common, I have been rediscovering some of the playlists I made many years ago, and I thought today I would share some of my favourite motivational tracks with you. I highly recommend adding these to an exercise playlist if you're struggling with motivation!

Bein' Friends (Super Smash Bros./Earthbound Beginnings)

I wouldn't say I'm the biggest fan of Super Smash Bros. — though I did make an honest attempt to get into it with Ultimate — but I do absolutely love this theme from the "Onett" stage. It's a good one to kick off a workout with because it combines drama, whimsy and triumph into a delightful tune that always makes me smile.

The Elite (Split/Second)

Here's another great one to kick off a workout with, because the beginning just builds anticipation — a fine accompaniment to a warmup, or just as you're getting into the swing of things. Then the main part of the track kicks in and you're ready to explode into action. And possibly have a near-uncontrollable hankering to play Split/Second again. Man, that game was good — and criminally mishandled in the marketplace.

Perfection! Space Elementary School Band! (Space Channel 5 Part 2)

Man, I could pick any number of tracks from both Space Channel 5 games to put in here, but I'll try and restrain myself… a bit. Anyway, this track demonstrates one of the things I love about the soundtrack as a whole: the way that each section starts in a familiar way before branching off into something completely different and sometimes unexpected. I love the high tempo of this one — it's a favourite part of the game, and recalling my enjoyment of the sequence that this track accompanies is a powerful motivating factor, for sure.

Riders of the Light (Bayonetta)

Fly Me To The Moon is, understandably, the Bayonetta theme that gets all the attention, but I always thought this theme was just… better, generally. I know I certainly got absolutely hyped up any time a battle was accompanied by it — and it works great for motivational music, too. My favourite bit is that piano-heavy bit after the initial section. Such delicious chord sequences.

Be The One (Trauma Team)

Finale music is, as you might expect, absolutely great for motivation. This one, from the beginning of the buildup to the grand finale of Atlus' incredible game, Trauma Team, is a good example. We're not taking things too over the top, but we are making it feel like we should be taking whatever we are doing seriously. It doesn't matter if you're out for a walk in the park, putting up shelves or cutting into living flesh (with the flesh owner's consent, of course) — this is music to get you In The Mood to… well, Be The One.

Sins of the Father (Beyond Good and Evil)

Man, what a great game Beyond Good and Evil was. We're never, ever going to see that sequel. But that doesn't matter, because you can put this banging track on when you're doing exercise and you'll feel like you can do anything! Particularly during the bit with the dramatic buildup and the creepy chanting. This track has a few good sections that feels like they're good for "exploding" into action. You'll know them when you hear them.

A Toccata into Blood-Soaked Darkness (Castlevania: Curse of Darkness)

Hitting a wall? What you need is Castlevania! The combination of overdramatic orchestra and Gothic-infused rock and electronic rhythms has always got me fired up, and this particular track is a personal favourite of mine — even though it hails from one of the Castlevania games that I haven't actually played. (PAL copies of this one are pricy today.)

Got all that? Should get you through an evening's workout. And if it doesn't, blast out One-Winged Angel to finish off your session. That'll sort you right out.

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The post #oneaday Day 794: Motivational music appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

But there is another issue which I'm not sure is quite the same thing. It's definitely related, but I'm not sure it's exactly the same thing. It doesn't really matter. Anyway, what I'm talking about is the fact that Digestive biscuits that are more elaborate than "chocolate" are smaller than standard plain and chocolate Digestives.

I spotted this a while back with the caramel ones, which are very nice. I'm pretty certain they used to be the same size as a regular Digestive, but now their diameter is noticeably and significantly smaller.

Why is this? I suspect the answer is simple: to make the thing with the more elaborate recipe have the same number of calories as the old thing. Indeed, this is the case with both the caramel and the new "Jaffa Cake" Digestives (very disappointing, by the way — they might as well have just called these "Chocolate Orange" flavour, but then gullible idiots like me would probably be less likely to pick them up and go "ooh, Jaffa Cake Digestives, those sound nice" and buy them) and, looking on the McVities website, it is also true for the new "Seriously Chocolatey" variety, which is basically a chocolate digestive with a chocolate chip, cocoa-y biscuit instead of a regular Digestive. All of these varieties, along with the common-or-garden chocolate Digestive, have approximately 80 calories per biscuit.

If we look at the calories per 100g, the picture should become clearer. Regular-ass chocolate Digestives are 496 calories per 100g, caramel ones are… hang on a minute, 479? And the Jaffa Cake ones are 478?

This leads me to the conclusion that, presumably, the extra bit of filling in caramel and Jaffa Cake digestives makes them weigh a little more than a regular Digestive, hence their size has been reduced to compensate, and that, in turn, makes them the same number of calories per biscuit as a regular chocolate Digestive. Does that work? My maths isn't functional enough this evening to calculate if that makes sense.

But anyway! It's not the point! When I have a Digestive, I want it to be a honking great biscuit that is eminently suitable for dunking in a cup of hot liquid! Regular Digestives are just the right size for your average mug in that you can dunk them without there being a lot of clearance around the outside, making it less likely that you will accidentally drop the whole thing. The smaller ones are far too small for this purpose.

If the answer to this is some misguided attempt to make all Digestives equal in terms of calories and thus make people assume they are equally "healthy" — to that I say they are biscuits! Anyone eating a biscuit is not concerned with being healthy at that exact moment in time! Consequently, I also suggest that it is okay for a more elaborate biscuit to weigh a little more and have more calories than its more common counterpart! If you really want to have a biscuit and kid yourself that you're "being healthy", the Rich Teas — and, if you really hate yourself, Snack-a-Jacks — are right over there!

In a funny way, this reminds me of the time back when the iPad first launched, when "HD" versions of apps would cost £5 more because they had more pixels in them, despite being functionally (and often aesthetically) identical. It's all part of the tapestry of dark patterns that Capitalism uses to squeeze money out of us. And I should probably feel bad that it works on me.

Still, caramel Digestives are nice, even if the Jaffa Cake ones are a bit disappointing. Biscuits!

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The post #oneaday Day 791: The better thing shouldn't be smaller appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I did a brief (about 15 minute) workout using them to do a few different things, including some curls, goblet squats, lunges, twists and shoulder presses, and dear Lord am I feeling the regret today. I think I might have overdone it a bit, given that both my arms and legs have been feeling a bit wobbly today and my left buttock is experiencing a sensation I can only describe as "repeated twinges" — and I was exhausted when I woke up this morning.

I don't think it's a bad idea to do some mild weight training at home, though, so I've ordered myself a set of wuss-ass pastel-coloured dumbbells for girls in an attempt to shame myself into being capable of doing something more manly. Or, more accurately — because I hope I have made abundantly clear on numerous occasions, I have absolutely zero desire to appear particularly "manly" — I have purchased myself some relatively low-impact exercise equipment which is probably what my body, in its current state, needs to get kickstarted into activity again. Big metal dumbbells can come later. Much later.

The walks around the Common are good, and I think they are having an effect. On past occasions when I have done exercise, though, I've found that complementing the cardio with some solid weight training of some description (usually on Machines if I've been a gym member at the time) tends to have an actually quite noticeable effect, particularly on my arms, and I think it's probably time to start incorporating that side of things again if I actually want to take this seriously.

And I kind of do! I mean, I know I want (and need) to lose weight, but for some reason I'm feeling oddly… enthused about the prospect of Getting Some Fitness Done at the moment. The last time I felt like this I was watching How Heavy Are The Dumbbells You Lift?, which was a work of anime genius that I should probably watch again, or at least read the manga, which was also excellent.

Anyway, all this is a long-winded way of saying that I'm having a night off doing anything useful and/or productive this evening, and I shall feel no guilt about that whatsoever! I'm not even going to write about Terranigma, even though I finished it last night. I will save that for tomorrow or the weekend — at least partly because my work announced our two Big Projects for the year today — the Banjo-Kazooie Double Pack which had already been revealed, and The DOOM Collection, which everyone kind of already knew about. But still. Not that I'm suggesting my online ramblings will take away from professional marketing, but I kind of just want to let that be out there tonight — and, indeed, to have a nice relaxing night off for myself.

Now the question is: what to spend that night off doing? Do I go play some more Visco arcade games? Do I play some Forza Motorsport? Do I start something completely new? Deciding that is going to occupy the next half an hour or so, I suspect, so let's leave that there. Also I need a wee.

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The post #oneaday Day 790: Twinge appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I say I don't feel able to cycle, but I don't know that. I feel like I am probably too heavy for your average bike, though, and I don't really want to put myself in a situation where I'm putting that to the test, because of the potential embarrassment. As such, "being able to cycle again" is one of many things that are filed away under "things to do if you are ever able to successfully shift all this weight ever again". A box that has been frustratingly out of reach for quite a few years at this point.

Thing is, I know I can shift weight, because I did it once before. Unfortunately, the method I used last time around — following the Slimming World programme — hasn't really worked for me on subsequent attempts for various reasons, and I also found that I've never had quite as strong a connection with any Slimming World consultants since the chap mentioned in that linked post. Paul Glass was someone truly special, and it was a sad day when he had to leave us. (He's not dead, to my knowledge, he just chose to finish being a consultant for his own reasons.)

And it's frustrating, because I remember how great it felt to be if not "slim", then certainly more "normal-sized", according to my own self-perception. I remember leaning back in the car and smiling at the fact I could see my whole body rather than just my belly. I could cross my legs. I wasn't repulsed by my own reflection. I could buy clothes from regular shops. I wouldn't hesitate at the prospect of reuniting with old friends based on the shame I feel over my current appearance. And, yes, I could ride a bike without worrying about it.

I want those great feelings back again! And it's not as if I'm not trying to get back there — even having some mild success through counting calories and getting a bit of tentative exercise with my walks in the park — but it's a long road ahead of me, and I'm also conscious of the fact that at the end of that road, if I ever get there, I have to face a lifelong fear and get surgery to sort out this hernia that I've been dealing with for probably getting on for a decade at this point. And that fucking hernia is one of the biggest things holding me back right now; it's that which I'm most self-conscious about in terms of my appearance, it's that which makes a lot of things a lot more difficult to do than they perhaps could be, and it's that which, at times, still causes me pain that I can't really do a whole lot about until I've made it through this whole process.

The end result of all this effort will be worth it. I have to keep telling myself that, and reminding myself strongly about it when I feel like just giving up on the whole thing and just trying to live with the size and shape I am right now.

But I'm not at all happy with that. I would go so far as to say that my feelings towards my own appearance and general physical state are the absolute worst things in my life right now. You might not understand quite how all-encompassing those feelings can be if you've not been in this state before — and believe me, I strongly discourage you from doing so if at all possible — but I really do feel like if I can fix this, it will make my life immeasurably better in almost every possible way.

That goal really does seem so far away, though. Some days it's hard to keep going, but I guess it's one of those things you just have to take a step at a time, and eventually you will get there, so long as you don't take any particularly stupid detours along the way.

I am mildly prone to stupid detours, is the trouble. But let's just see where I end up as time goes on. Maybe one day I'll get back on a bike.

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The post #oneaday Day 789: Longing for the saddle appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I know why this is the case, of course. It's a misguided (and probably legally enforced) attempt to get us all to practice better portion control and, collectively, to Be Less Fat. However, we all know what actually happens: people look at that "portion" advice, then just double it (or, in some cases, multiply it by four or more) in order to calculate what they are actually eating. And I just feel like food companies could probably save everyone a lot of time and effort if they just put what the calorie value for the whole thing was.

Like, take a pizza. Buy a frozen pizza and the calorie information will probably be for half of it. Buy a takeaway pizza and the calorie information will be "per slice". Motherfucker, if I am buying a pizza of any description I am eating that whole thing, so just tell me what the damage is so I don't have to get the bloody calculator out. I will accept full responsibility for my actions. Just tell me.

Likewise, take one of those massive bars of Dairy Milk. According to those, "1 portion" is "3 squares". No it fucking isn't. The only time people buy a massive bar of Dairy Milk is when they are depressed, and when that happens they are almost certainly going to eat the whole thing while crying in front of the TV. (Ask me how I know.) So just tell me how many thousand calories are in that whole bar of chocolate so I can come to terms with the consequences at a later time when I am feeling less emotionally fragile.

I feel calorie information on food packaging might actually have more impact if it was more honest like this! "If you eat this whole quiche, that's most of the daily calorie intake for an average human being!" Great! Now I know, and I will thus probably think a little bit harder about whether or not I actually really want to eat that whole quiche, or if I'm just doing so because I'm in the middle of a binge-eating spree that is almost certainly fuelled by some combination of depression, anxiety and/or autism.

And don't even get me started on foods that are clearly portioned out, but which will only ever give you calorie information "per 100 grams". That's the point where I really don't want to start doing maths. Don't make me do fucking percentages just to figure out how guilty I should be feeling for eating the thing. Just give me the calorie information for a realistic portion, and perhaps for the entire packet of the thing just in case it accidentally ends up all taking a trip down to see Mr Tums.

To put it another way, stop trying to shame me for eating more than I "should" and help me make an actually informed decision using helpful information! By the time I am able to successfully curtail my appetite, I don't mind dividing some of these things into halves or quarters or whatever, although one would hope once you have reached a good, "healthy" weight (which is its own discussion, I'm sure) you have less need to be exacting about counting calories. But during that period where accurate calorie information is actually helpful — i.e. when you're trying to lose weight — I think it would benefit everyone to be completely honest and lay out the cold, hard facts. I think it would genuinely be a lot more effective at helping to get people to reconsider before overeating!

And stop trying to kid yourself that anyone is eating half a tube of Fruit Pastilles!

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The post #oneaday Day 785: Portioning the blame appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

You see, in my case, comparing myself to others inevitably leads to feelings of inferiority and frustration when really there is no reason for me to be comparing myself to anyone other than… well, myself.

Take one thing I'm always very conscious of when I go out for a walk, as I did this evening: because of the size I am, and because of my general overall fitness level, I walk quite slowly, even when in my head I am thinking "I am walking quite briskly". I can be walking at an exertion level that makes me slightly out of breath, and people who are just out for a casual stroll will be overtaking me without any evident effort on my part. Were I to pay attention to this — like I have done in the past, which is why I can say all this at all — this would be frustrating! Why can't I walk as fast as a "normal" person? Am I annoying the "normal" people who walk much faster than I do? God, I'm such a waste of space and energy!

But no. The sensible part of my brain, which I am growing better at listening to, reminds me that I have absolutely no reason to be comparing my walking speed to that of anyone else, because I am not, in fact, getting in anyone's way. The Common is a big place, and its paths are more than wide enough for anyone who wants to go faster than me to just walk around me. And, moreover, I am not walking with any of those people, meaning that my overall speed is not causing anyone to have to wait around for me to catch up.

(This is, however, something I am conscious of any time I am out and about with friends or work colleagues, and we are all walking somewhere together. I simply cannot keep up with most of them under many circumstances. And that is frustrating, from a combination of people showing me an often unintentional lack of consideration, and my own annoyance at not being able to do things like a "normal" person.)

When I'm by myself, then, the only thing that really matters is me. The only thing I should be comparing myself to is myself, because it's quite nice to see gradual improvements in your own performance — and even with the fairly casual nature of my walking excursions over the course of the last couple of weeks, I have already seen a slight improvement in terms of the amount of time it takes me to cover the two kilometres of the route I habitually take.

But then there are times when you don't even need to know that. It's not a competition. It's not a race. There is no way you can speed up this whole process. It is something that happens gradually, through building good habits, and thus, when it comes down to it, the only really important thing is that I am just doing the thing at all. Have I successfully got out of the house into the fresh air and got some exercise? Yes? Then great. That's a success.

This is the thing. When attempting to improve yourself — particularly if you are neurodivergent — the temptation can be to give up when you can't immediately fix the problem you're trying to solve. But it doesn't work like that. Instead, you should allow yourself to celebrate those small victories, even if they are much smaller than victories you have had in the past.

I'll give you an example. A good few years ago at this point (2011, to be exact, since I was blogging here at the time!), I successfully "ran" (and I use the term loosely) the Bupa 10K in London, along with some friends I have since, sadly, fallen out of touch with. (Miss you, Vee and Gracie!) This was, for me, an incredible achievement — and one that only came about because I had successfully followed the Couch to 5K and Bridge to 10K programmes over a long period.

I cannot run a 10K now. I cannot even contemplate walking 10 kilometres right now. I cannot even really contemplate walking five kilometres. And that's OK! 2011 was fifteen years ago. I wasn't in amazing shape then, but I was in considerably better shape than I am now, and I was also fifteen years younger. As such, it makes absolutely no sense to try and compare myself against that yardstick (or should that be 10K-stick?) because so much has changed in that intervening period. Yes, it would be nice to be able to get back into a state where I could contemplate surviving a journey of 10 kilometres on foot — be it by walking or jogging — but right now, it is an irrelevant target for me.

Right now, my target is just to get up of the sofa, get out into the fresh air and just do something, at least a few times per week. I have given myself the arbitrary goal of two kilometres because that just happens to be the exact distance of a "lap" that I do on the Common right now, and because that is something which, in my current state, feels attainable but still challenging — in other words, it's a level of effort that I feel is actually doing something.

I was tempted to write "even if that might not seem like very much to some of you" after that, but stopped myself. Because, as I say, what it seems like to anyone else doesn't matter. Everyone's circumstances are different. I'm sure I know plenty of people who can jog 5K, 10K, even more, without even thinking about it. And, right now, it achieves nothing for me to compare myself to them because they are simply operating in a completely different league. And that is, once again, fine.

So I will continue muddling along at my own pace. At some point, I will up the distance and/or time that I will be walking, but I don't feel ready for that just yet, so I'm not going to do that just yet. I will do it when the time is right, not when anyone else says that I "should" do it — but when I feel I want to do it.

And, with any luck, this will build itself over time into a healthy habit that will be of great benefit to me. That's all that really matters!

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 783: Nothing compares 2U appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I'm not really sure why I slept so badly last night — conditions in the bedroom (ooer) weren't particularly different from any other given evening, as we had the air conditioning blasting, I had my blackout sleep mask on with some calming noises playing, but still I kept waking up, feeling uncomfortable and/or needing a piss. At 4am I got up and evacuated what must have been over a litre of piss from my body. That'll learn me for Hydrating.

I'm going to get an early night tonight, I think, so I am writing this post in good time to be able to do that, and I'm probably going to skip a walk around the Common this evening also. There are times when you have to listen to your body, and my body right now is telling me that it needs some decent rest. So that's the plan for later tonight, at least.

In the meantime, I have plenty I could be doing, but I think I'm probably going to play some more Terranigma this evening. I've been playing a lot of Splatoon Raiders — it's a great "lunchtime game" with how bite-sized each individual "raid" is — and I want to make some progress on Terranigma. Interestingly, my video on its immediate predecessor, Illusion of Time, overtook my video on Soul Blazer in a fraction of the time in terms of views. Neither have done amazingly in terms of total views, but as I always say: the views are not why I'm doing this. I do this because it's fun, and because it's nice to have a sort of record of the things you've experienced and your thoughts about them.

Same reason why MoeGamer exists, really. I have loved writing about the games I have enjoyed ever since I was a young child — I bet my parents still have the ring binder with all my dot-matrix printouts of "reviews" I wrote when I was a kid somewhere — and I don't see that changing any time soon. It's my way of just sort of "getting a bit more" out of an already rewarding and fulfilling hobby. The feeling of creating something, even if it's just some blurted-out thoughts representing your opinion about something, is always satisfying — and I can look back over both this site and MoeGamer and feel pride in what I've created to date, and excitement for what is still to come.

Also it gives me a sort of perverse pleasure that MoeGamer has now lasted considerably longer than the site I was laid off from when I made it in the first place. I guess passion will always trump commercial interests.

Anyway! That was a random string of consciousness, for which I make no apologies. I am off to have some dinner, play Terranigma and then at least attempt to be in a position conducive to getting some sleep before the clock strikes midnight.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 781: Broadcasting from Tiredsville appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I was fortunate enough to have my work featured on the site on a few occasions, with my most popular piece by far being an adaptation of Bayonetta's opening scene as if graphics didn't exist and the entire thing unfolded as a text adventure. (Aside: attempting to track down an archive of this is how I learned that most of Bitmob's original site content is still online, but some "Software as a Service", probably AI-related company appears to be leeching off the site's SEO from back in the day.)

Anyway, in the absence of anything else to write about (although right now I could write something about companies leeching off past sites' SEO… we'll save that for another day though, as this absolutely will not be the last time I come across this phenomenon, I'm sure) I thought I would do the same for my walk around the Common this evening. Are you ready? Let us begin.

You inexpertly guide your little car into the narrow parking space and realise that you have parked a little too close to the car next to you, so you reverse out and manoeuvre yourself into what you think is a slightly more advantageous position. When you attempt to open your car door, you realise that you have not, in fact, made things any better at all. Giving up before humiliating yourself further, you squeeze through the slightly too narrow gap between your car and its neighbour, and prepare to face the early evening.

A WALK ON THE COMMON
Copyright (c) 2026 Petefocom, Inc. All rights reserved.
A WALK ON THE COMMON is a registered trademark of Petefocom, Inc.
Version 69 / Serial number 420069

Cemetery Road, Car Park
You are in the car park of the common — actually just a narrow side street with some parking spaces demarcated down one side. The sun is low in the sky, such that it is difficult to look in a westerly direction, and the air is warm and a little humid.

The road (and car park) continues to the northwest. To the southeast, you can hear the rushing traffic of The Avenue.

Your car is here.

What would you like to do?
> INVENTORY

You are carrying:
Your keys
Your wallet
Your phone
A pair of headphones (worn)
Your watch (worn)
Clothes (worn)

What next?
> REMOVE CLOTHES

You feel that would probably be a bad idea while you're out in public. Also, in a park? Talk about clichéd. If you're going to streak, do it somewhere a bit more imaginative.

What next?
> SE

You came all this way to have a walk in the park. No point turning back now. And anyway, if you want to go back that way, you're better off getting into your car.

What next?
> EXAMINE WATCH

This is a fancy-pants fitness tracker thingy that your wife got you. She wasn't dropping a hint; you had indicated that you might be interested in using one in an attempt to actually get fit.

The watch's display is off.

[You won't see "What next?" any more.]
> TURN ON WATCH

The watch's display lights up immediately. A picture of Patti, one of your cats, greets you, along with the time. It is 7.30pm.

> USE WATCH

Please be more specific about how you want to use the watch.

> TRACK FITNESS

I don't know how to "TRACK" something.

> START WATCH

You flick the screen over to the right, choose the "Walking" activity and wait for the countdown to begin.

Your watch begins tracking your steps.

> LOOK AT PHONE

Your phone has the album "Black Sabbath" by Black Sabbath cued up and ready to go. The play button looks inviting.

> PRESS PLAY

Your phone starts blaring Black Sabbath at full volume. You quickly press the Pause button. Perhaps you should turn the headphones on first.

> TURN ON HEADPHONES

You turn on the headphones. They make a soft "beep" sound, then a second "beep" to indicate they have connected to your phone.

> PRESS PLAY

Black Sabbath begins to play inside your head, thanks to your cheap and cheerful bone-conducting headphones. Now you're really ready to get started.

> NW

Cemetery Road, Carriage Drive Entrance
You've reached the end of the "car park" section of Cemetery Road. The road itself continues a short distance to the northwest, but becomes a dead end shortly thereafter. A path into the Common itself proceeds to the north. Painted white letters on the ground indicate that this particular pathway is known as "Carriage Drive South".

> N

You begin walking.

Carriage Drive South
You've entered the Common proper. To the south is Cemetery Road and the car park. Either side of you are some pleasantly rustling trees. Carriage Drive continues in a northerly direction for a short distance.

> N

Carriage Drive Corner
Carriage Drive makes a sharp turn here. Squinting against the low, early evening sun, you can just about see an small lake behind a fence in the distance to the west. One of several entrances to the Common lies to the south.

A man with no shirt on zooms past you. He is upsettingly toned and even more upsettingly sweaty. You cannot even begin to imagine what it would feel like to be able to move at that speed using nothing but your own legs.

There is a Really Good Dog here. And their owner too, I guess.

> LOOK AT MAN

He's long gone. You're not sure you want anything to do with him, anyway. Just being in his presence for less than a second made you feel inferior.

> LOOK AT DOG

Are all dogs good dogs? It doesn't matter, because this one is.

> W

Near Cemetery Lake
Thus named because it's near the cemetery, not because they've buried people in it — not to your knowledge, anyway — Cemetery Lake is a filthy but nonetheless relatively picturesque pond that occupies a space to the north of the path you're currently on, behind a fence. A bunch of ducks are languidly paddling around on the grimy surface of the water, evidently looking for remnants of the last generous visitors. Carriage Drive proceeds to the east and west.

> N

You can't go in that direction. The fence is in the way.

> CLIMB FENCE

You don't think that would be a good idea. Not only are you not good at climbing things, you also have an excellent talent for hurting yourself quite badly when doing things you are not good at.

A child riding the tiniest bicycle you have ever seen wobbles past, followed a few seconds later by what looks like a long-suffering parent.

> W

Park's Edge Corner
You sense you're quite close to the edge of the park, as you think you can hear traffic on the other side of the bushes. The path makes another sharp turn here, proceeding to the north, parallel to the edge of the park, or to the east, back towards Cemetery Lake.

You think you can smell weed.

> N

Park's Edge
The pathway continues in a north-south direction. Trees flank the path on both sides, giving the area a pleasant "tunnel of green" look.

You can definitely smell weed.

> N

Suspicious Bushes
The greenery thins out a little on one side to reveal a clearing with a bench, and some bushes behind it. The bushes look suspicious. You figure that if you were going to get up to no good, these would be some great bushes to do it in. The pathway continues in a north-south direction.

The smell of weed seems to be coming from the direction of the bushes.

> LOOK AT BUSHES

You figure they're probably having a nice time without you. Leave them be.

A woman wearing a pair of shorts that are so tight you think they might just be painted on jogs past.

> LOOK AT WOMAN

Before you are able to make a definitive determination of whether or not the shorts are real or just an illusion, she is long gone.

> N

Junction
You've reached the point where several paths meet. To the west is one of the Common's numerous exits. The pathway continues to the north, southeast and south.

A child, in tears and holding a balloon, waddles along the path, closely followed by a mother who looks about ready to murder someone.

Through your headphones, Black Sabbath is interrupted by the robotic voice of your watch indicating that you have successfully completed a kilometre in 14 minutes and 59 seconds.

> POP BALLOON

As entertaining at that would be, you unfortunately don't have anything sharp on you.

The child and distraught mother pass by. The former's wails fade into the distance, and an almost tangible air of despair follows shortly afterwards.

> SE

The Flats
This area of the Common is called The Flats, because it's really flat. It's also the widest open space on the whole Common, and the place where events tend to happen. Right now, in the heat of the summer, all the grass is dead, the whole place looks like a desert and nothing much is going on, other than a few kids having a half-hearted kickabout. So much for "public green spaces". The path continues to the southeast, and reaches a junction to the northwest.

The upsettingly toned man runs past again. You wish he would put a shirt on.

> SE

The Flats, Starting Lines
This part of The Flats is evidently where they start races of various descriptions, because there are two starting lines: one red, one blue. Judging by other markings on the path of the same colour, the red route is about 2.5km in length, while the blue route is 3.5km. The pathway continues into a wooded area in the southeast, and back to the middle of The Flats to the northwest.

A woman jogs up the path in the opposite direction to you. The pockets on her shorts appear to be inside-out and are flapping up and down in a mildly distracting manner as she bobs along at her own pace.

> TALK TO WOMAN

Are you mad? Talking to a stranger? You are not only autistic, you are also British. Besides, she looks busy.

> NW

Not to artificially constrain your adventure, but for the purposes of this blog post's tortuously convoluted narrative I will remind you that this is the direction you just arrived from, and thus you probably want to go southeast.

> SE

Near The Hawthorns
You're in a wooded area of the Common, close to a small building that proclaims itself the "Hawthorns Urban Wildlife Centre". The gate to the Centre is closed and locked. The pathway gradually bends around to the south, and proceeds in the other direction, towards the Flats, to the northwest.

> OPEN GATE

I mean, I did tell you it was locked, but you had to go and check for yourself, didn't you? The gate is locked. Now perhaps you might give your narrator a bit of respect.

> S

The Corner of the Common
You've reached the corner of the Common. A gate kind-of sort-of blocks the path in such a way that vehicles wouldn't be able to drive in, but people can still get around. To the northwest is the Cemetery Road car park, and the pathway proceeds towards the Hawthorns Urban Wildlife Centre to the north.

The upsettingly toned man runs past again. You feel like he is accelerating. You begin to wonder if, were you to keep walking, he would eventually reach infinite velocity, then realise that this is probably a rather silly thing to wonder and go back to wishing he would put a shirt on his sweaty, rippling, muscly back.

> CURSE MAN

You mutter a curse under your breath. To your surprise, the man bursts into flames with a horrifying scream. A moment later, the screams have ceased, and there is nothing more than a pile of ash on the floor. That'll learn him.

> NW

Cemetery Road, Car Park

Your car is here.

Through your headphones, Black Sabbath is interrupted by the robotic voice of your watch indicating that you have successfully completed two kilometres in 29 minutes and 26 seconds.

Congratulations! You have completed A WALK ON THE COMMON. You probably shouldn't have murdered that man, but how were you to know that you were capable of inflicting truly horrific curses just with the power of your mind? No-one will ever believe it was you, anyway.

Probably.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 780: A Walk on the Common - The Text Adventure appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I mentioned the other day that I had been going through the basics of DaVinci Resolve, largely out of necessity because my prior video editor of choice, Hitfilm Express, is no longer available — and, indeed, the company that made it no longer exists, it seems. I had been putting off learning DaVinci Resolve for the longest time because it's the sort of application that you open up and you can feel its UI laughing at you. "You'll never know what all these buttons are for," it says. "You may as well just close me right now and not even bother."

Well, today I decided that I was going to put my three chapters' worth of training to the test and edit myself a YouTube video. And, to my great pleasure, it was immediately just as straightforward as the last seven years I've spent using Hitfilm Express. Yes, there are a number of differences between the two applications — most notably that DaVinci Resolve is a considerably more complex, fully-featured program that can do other things besides editing video — but it seems that I have successfully ported over all the important knowledge from Hitfilm Express to DaVinci Resolve.

I haven't yet done everything in DaVinci Resolve that I used to do in Hitfilm Express — notably, I still need to learn how to do titles and keyframe-based animation and compositing — but taking on the relatively simple project that I did today has given me the confidence to explore the application further, either with or without the training manual by my side. After all, I learned Hitfilm without any real training material — most of the knowledge there I ported over from past experience with Final Cut Pro on Mac, which again, had its own way of doing certain things.

When tackling anything like this, it's taking that first step that is always the most difficult. In fact, I'd go so far as to say when doing pretty much anything, the first step is always the hardest — whether you're talking about working on an elaborate project, or simply motivating yourself to stand up and go and do something with your day.

I have proven myself victorious over several little things like that today — firstly, getting off the sofa and recording the voiceover for my video, then actually going through and editing the thing, and finally, troubleshooting a little issue I had with the export — and I am officially giving myself a pat on the back for my achievements. Now I can spend the remainder of the evening Doing Something Fun without any sort of guilt or feelings of obligation whatsoever.

Getting rid of those feelings of guilt and obligation completely are a whole other matter, of course, but one step at a time and all that. One step at a time.

Oh, and here's the vid, if you want to watch it:

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 779: Celebrating a small victory appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I'm unsure where this particular anxiety stems from, but it's not an altogether uncommon phenomenon. It seems it is most frequently associated with ADHD, which I have not been formally diagnosed with, but which from talking to people who do have it, I recognise a lot of the things they mention — much like I did with autism before I went and got myself diagnosed. I'm not in any great hurry to get myself diagnosed in that regard, though I suspect, as with the autism diagnosis, that having it confirmed (or otherwise) might help me to think about my own brain in a more helpful way.

But regardless! That doesn't fix the immediate issue, which is my brain is currently doing somersaults wondering what I should actually do today. And it's not as if I have a shortage of options. I could play some Final Fantasy XI, now I am into the Treasures of Aht Urhgan expansion. I could play some Terranigma, which I started the other day and enjoyed a lot. I could play some Splatoon Raiders, which I am also having fun with. I could record a voiceover for my Illusion of Time video and then edit said video now that I have learned the basics of DaVinci Resolve. I could even record some voiceovers for some work videos and get those out of the way if I really wanted to.

Or I could do something completely different. I could actually leave the house for some reason, perhaps pay a visit to CEX in town and see if they have anything interesting. I could go for a walk on the common (although I feel like the exact time I'm typing this is probably not the best time to do that, given how hot and humid it appears to be outside, so I will probably save that for later). I could pull down a random game from the shelf and give that a go. I could do some creative writing. I could write about a game I've been playing recently. I could record some Let's Play-style videos (again, I think it might be a bit too hot to do that right now). I could learn what "colour grading" is. I could practice some Japanese.

This is the problem, y'see. The problem is not that I have nothing to do, it's that I have a lot of options for what I could do, and pretty much all of them would be enjoyable and/or fulfilling in some way. One might say that this means it doesn't really matter which one of them I pick, as I will be having an enjoyable and fulfilling experience regardless. But for some reason, when this sort of mental block strikes, it doesn't quite work like that; my brain starts to feel genuine anxiety over whether or not I am picking the "correct" or "best" option, whatever that means — and there really is no "correct" or "best" option here. There is nothing I have to do; there is nothing that will make my life significantly better or worse if I do or don't do it. So all I need to do is just… pick something.

My intent was to follow that paragraph with something along the lines of "So I'm off to go and… [x]". But as I went to type that, my brain started a tug-of-war process with itself, still worrying over whether or not I was making the right choice. So I'm going to set myself a firm but friendly ultimatum — without being aggressive or sergeant-majorish about it — and say that by the time I finish writing this paragraph, I will have made a decision of what to do for the immediate now, not necessarily the whole day, but for the period immediately following completing this paragraph. Whenever I finish this paragraph. I am absolutely, positively, definitely not stalling for time while I attempt to get my mind in order. Definitely not. Perish the thought! Who would do something like that, even? That's ridiculous. I can absolutely, definitely make a decision on what Nice Thing I would like to do today.

I'm going to go and play Terranigma for a bit. Then we'll see what happens from there.

There, see, that wasn't so hard, was it?

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 778: That feeling you should be doing something appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I knew that sooner or later I was going to have to confront the fact that Hitfilm Express, my video editor of choice for the last 7 years or so, no longer exists in any form, but I had been putting off learning the most commonly recommended replacement for free hobbyist video editing: DaVinci Resolve.

I've loaded up DaVinci Resolve before to have a look. I was immediately daunted by an incredibly complex-looking interface, closed it down and went back to Hitfilm Express. Now, however, I don't have that option, unless I want to spend time faffing around looking for a dodgy download of the old version of Hitfilm Express I was using, and spending even more time trying to track down my license key for it — a license key I can't just log in and retrieve, because although the software would still activate online with it last time I had to reinstall, the actual website for it is no longer in existence. Which is, y'know, nice.

Anyway, tonight I was at a bit of a loose end, so I decided I would bite the bullet, install DaVinci Resolve and start working through some initial tutorials. The people behind DaVinci Resolve are good enough to have a bunch of training materials on their website — including full written books (which you can either buy as a physical book or get a free PDF of) as well as the obligatory video tutorials. I work much better from a book than a video, so I am extremely grateful for them offering those free PDFs — though it's a little fiddly attempting to read it on the same screen I'm using DaVinci Resolve on, so I may try and upload it to my Kindle.

The Beginner's Guide to DaVinci Resolve that I've been following along today seems to be very good. It doesn't assume knowledge, but it also doesn't move at such a glacial pace that people like me, who have past experience with other video editing software, get bored and switch off. In a couple of hours this evening, I have probably built up enough basic knowledge of the software to be able to reasonably comfortably do most of the things I could confidently do in Hitfilm Express, with the exception of a few bits and bobs about keyframing, animations, titles and such.

I'm impressed with DaVinci Resolve thus far. Although its interface is maddeningly crammed — not at all uncommon in today's creative software, as anyone who has used a recent Adobe product will attest through gritted teeth — once you know what you're looking for, you can get things done very quickly in a variety of different ways: through menus, through drag-and-drop, and through keyboard shortcuts. I'm going to have to unlearn a few of the ways I did things in Hitfilm Express, to be sure, but since I was almost entirely self-taught on that software and doubtless only using a fraction of its capabilities, I don't think that's going to be too much of a problem.

I'm especially impressed by how easy it is to add things like transitions and basic motion graphics — it's so easy to do these things that it almost feels like cheating. It's also very flexible in how you can edit clips together — including replace, ripple, roll and slide edits — so I think it's going to be a lot of fun to get to grips with once I start using it for my own projects.

I'm going to keep working through the training material for the minute, though, as there are some things covered in there that I've never really learned — like colour grading, for example. I don't know how much detail a self-professed Beginner's Guide is going to go into in that regard — although there are further, more specialist books to work through after I've had my fill of this one — but it will be nice to have an understanding of something that, to date, has remained a bit of a mystery beyond "drag the sliders around a bit until you think it looks OK".

I have a few videos in the pipeline that I will need to edit soon — a bunch for work, and at least one personal project — so it will be interesting to put DaVinci Resolve to the full test by doing something other than a tutorial on it. But from my experiences thus far this evening, I think it's going to be less of an issue to make the switch to this program than I thought it was going to be — which is, frankly, a blessed relief.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

The post #oneaday Day 777: Newfound Resolve appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I've been trying to get over a bit of a mental block for the easiest possible form of exercise, which is just going out for a walk. I do like walking around my neighbourhood — and heaven knows we did it a lot while Oliver was missing — but the unfortunate thing, as I'm sure I've mentioned in the past, is that we live on the top of quite a steep hill, meaning that whichever direction you set out from, you always end up having to climb said steep hill on the way back. Unless you do what I did on one excursion, which is to just keep walking and then catch the bus up the hill before walking the last little bit from the bus stop back to my house.

My trips to the Common are an attempt to get over that mental and physical block. The Common is relatively flat, you see, meaning that you can have a nice walk around it and not feel like any part of the journey is significantly more difficult than any other. There are a few undulations around the place — the route I've been taking is a slight incline on the way out, then very slightly downhill on the way back — but it's definitely manageable for someone in as poor physical condition as I am.

Also it's just a nice place to be. The Common has lots of different little areas within it — pleasantly secluded wooded areas (which I probably wouldn't go into after dark) and a nice wide open bit in the middle, which is where any Common-based events tend to go on. There's often a funfair or something in this big open bit, but right now, it's proper "big sky" territory.

One thing that is a little shocking, however, is how desert-like the whole thing looks right now after the heatwave. The grass is just dead. I've never seen it so bad, and I've always associated the Common with being, well, "green space". And to be sure, all the trees are still nice and leafy and green, but the ground… man, it looks more like what I imagine places like Arizona and Texas to look like than what I typically associate with England. (Important note: I have never been to Arizona or Texas and have also never really looked at photographs of what they actually look like.) It's a barren wasteland, and it's a little disheartening to see.

Still, I'm sure it's not the first time this has happened in recent memory — we've had similar heatwaves in the summer of the past few years, after all, and I actually haven't been to the Common for a while — so I'm sure it will recover as soon as we get a bit of rain. That isn't looking likely any time soon, admittedly, but as we pass through summer into autumn I'm sure it will get at least some of its green back. Maybe.

It is, however, a stark reminder of the fact that we are very much killing the planet. Seeing a desert-like park space would have been unthinkable when I was a child; I grew up with both my primary and secondary schools having access to large amounts of green space, and I welcomed that. It was nice to be able to be outside, and for the outside to feel like it had some life to it — without that "life" being, like, lots of bugs and spiders or shit like that. I have fond memories, both of my early childhood and my teenage years, of spending time just sitting on the grass with friends (and occasionally having farting competitions), enjoying one another's company and the pleasant environment that we were able to take advantage of.

At this point, there is just plain no denying that there are significant issues with the climate. "England's green and pleasant land" shouldn't look like a barren wasteland you'd expect to see dried-up tumbleweed rolling across. And yet that's where we are right now. It's scary stuff, and at the rate we're going I wonder if we'll be able to get things back to how they "should" be — whatever that might be.

Anyway, maudlin thoughts about the fate of the planet aside, I have been enjoying getting out and about. Although it's been pretty warm in the daytime, I've found going out around 7pm has a good balance between having some light left and the air just generally being a bit cooler thanks to the sun starting to set. I've even seen marginal improvements in my own performance over just those three days — not that I'm particularly caring about performance right now, since the goal is just to get out and do something, but it is nice to see that just a little effort can pay off almost immediately.

So yeah. I'm going to enjoy a night off tonight, then get back out there tomorrow. Now I have Salmonids to splat!

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The post #oneaday Day 775: Perambulation appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I am thinking of this with particular regard to musical tastes, as I went out for a walk this evening, and rather than taking the opportunity to listen to something new to me, I decided to put on DJ Yoda's How to Cut & Paste Mix Tape Vol. 1. To be fair, this is an album I haven't actually listened to for quite a long time, so in a way it was a bit of a change from constantly spinning one track from the Gal*Gun 2 soundtrack (this one, if you were curious) because said track makes me smile. But there are also other DJ Yoda albums that I have never listened to — and, going on the fact I enjoyed How to Cut & Paste Vol. 1, 2 and '80s Edition plus Unthugged, I will probably enjoy them also. And yet. And yet. Here I am, hitting Play on things I've been listening to since 2001.

I'm conscious of this every time I put on Dream Theater's Octavarium, an album I like 100% because I enjoyed Panic Attack in Rock Band on the grounds it "sounds a bit like Castlevania", instead of trying out any of their other albums.

I'm conscious of it every time I listen to Movement in Still Life by BT — and it has to be the version of it I'm familiar with — because I remember being introduced to that specific album by my brother, and buying a copy the next time I had the opportunity.

I'm conscious of it every time I listen to Time by ELO, because it's an album I have fond memories of listening to with my Dad.

And I'm conscious of it every time, when faced with the limitless possibilities today's streaming platforms provide, I inevitably revert to the exact same few albums, time after time. Which were likely the ones I ripped and uploaded to Google Play Music before they made it shitter and turned it into YouTube Music anyway.

I don't have a physical CD collection any more, aside from a bunch of soundtrack CDs I've acquired from various limited edition releases of video games. For many years, I didn't regret getting rid of the pile of CDs I had — a collection which dated back to my teenage years, and Oasis' Definitely Maybe, the first piece of popular music I bought for myself with my own money — but just recently, I have been missing them. I have been feeling tempted to make an attempt at rebuilding a collection — with the main thing that is stopping me being the fact I don't think I have a lot of room for CDs. (Although I feel like I could probably make room quite easily.)

I know what will happen if I do that, though: I will inevitably pick up all the albums I remember owning, and probably not anything else. After all, why on Earth would you take a risk on buying some music that you might not like?

This is silly, of course, and it's in direct opposition to how I used to feel about buying music. I used to have absolutely zero shame in the music I bought, as it happens — and I still do feel that way in some respects. I'll listen to pretty much anything, regardless of how cool or uncool it might be — although I do tend to draw the line at tedious X-Factor ballads.

It's just that, as I've grown older, I've felt more and more ensconced in that one canonical set of "albums I like", and stepping outside of that always feels surprisingly difficult — even when it comes to artists whose output I, generally speaking, know that I like.

So y'know what. In an attempt to broaden my own horizons, when I go out for another walk one evening later in the week, I will make an effort to pick something I have never heard before from an artist that I know I like as the accompaniment. I might even discover some new favourites!

As for tonight, I had forgotten about the track called Stupid Poo on How to Cut & Paste Mix Tape Vol. 1 that uses farting as a significant part of the beat, and I thoroughly enjoyed rediscovering it. I will leave that with you.

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The post #oneaday Day 773: Locked-in tastes appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

My most recent acquisition in this department is a set of "bone-conducting" headphones. I have been curious to try this technology for a while, and as it was a nice day without being "can't breathe" levels of hot today, I thought I would go for a walk and try them out.

For the unfamiliar, bone-conducting headphones are exactly what they sound like. Rather than sticking them in or on your ear, they sit just in front of your ear on the bony bit that is there. They then transmit the sound through that bone and into the complicated stuff that is inside your ear. This means they bypass your eardrum, which has a number of benefits — most notably allowing those with hearing issues to hear things much better than through things you put in or on your ear — but for me their main appeal element is the fact that… well, they don't sit in or on your ear.

I don't like earbuds because I've never found a pair that are comfortable or that will stay in — and with how bloody tiny wireless ones are these days, I'd be terrified of losing them if I'd paid any sort of premium for them. I do like over-ear headphones, but they do make my head hot, so they're not especially practical for wearing out and about, particularly in the summer. And you just don't really seem to see on-ear headphones much these days. At least, I haven't. Maybe I just haven't really been looking.

These bone-conducting headphones I got were a cheapo pair from Amazon, because I wasn't about to pay through the nose for these if they were any sort of unknown quantity. They're wireless, have USB-C charging and Bluetooth, which is all I really needed. There are fancier (and much more expensive) pairs you can get that have on-board music storage, heavier waterproofing that lets you use them while swimming, and all manner of other features, but I figured just for now, just to begin with, something basic and affordable would be plenty.

And they are! I wore them out for a walk around the Common earlier today, and they definitely do the job. Music is audible and clear, and the fact they're not stuffed in your ears means that if you keep the volume down a bit you can still hear everything going on around you; if you turn the volume up, meanwhile, you can get almost as much immersion in the sound as with a regular pair of earphones.

Sound quality is okay. If you had a Walkman back in the day and had a pair of those over-ear headphones with the foam ear covers, the sound quality seemed roughly equivalent to a pair like that — nothing super-remarkable, a little lacking in the bass end, but perfectly adequate for most things, particularly if "listening to music" is not the primary activity on your agenda and you just want some background noise.

I'm surprised how effectively the bone-conducting method works. I was expecting it to feel weird or be somehow "unusual", but when the music's on, it just sounds like it's being piped into your ears like with a regular pair of headphones. The only real notable difference I noticed is beyond a certain volume level, you can feel the vibrations a little bit, giving a slight tickly sensation around the temples. I found a decent balance between sound quality, not being tickled and being able to hear important noises around me to be a few steps down from max volume, whereas on a lot of other headphones I tend to find myself whacking them up to max and leaving it there.

While I'm not going to go and recommend these things as a replacement for proper audiophile gear — I suspect even the more expensive models will be somewhat limited in their sound quality by the very nature of the tech — they're absolutely a great solution for having some music on while you're out and about, and they're discreet enough that you can just leave them on all the time even while you're not actively using them.

I'm definitely going to be using these a lot more, as I'm definitely (haha) going to be getting out and having a nice walk on a more semi-regular basis than I have been. Weather-permitting, of course; I suspect with how most days have been of late, I will be having a lot of evening walks rather than going in the daytime!

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The post #oneaday Day 772: The Lovely(-Sounding) Bones appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

To take exercise as an example, it's easy to say to yourself "I should exercise for at least half an hour at least three times a week" and then immediately feel like a failure the moment you don't manage to achieve that. (I am aware that is not very much exercise by some people's standards, but it's just a hypothetical baseline for the scenario I'm talking about here.) Setting yourself unrealistic "minimum" targets and then feeling bad when you fail to achieve them is not the way to develop long-term, healthy, sustainable habits, because you come to resent your unsuccessful attempts to live up to the completely arbitrary target you have set yourself, and end up not doing anything as a result. And with anything worth doing, doing that thing a little bit is always, always better than not doing the thing at all.

When I was talking about this, my therapist pointed out that I had a clear shift in my tone of voice. I was speaking purely in abstract terms about how my mind approaches such things, but I had subconsciously shifted to a rather stern-sounding voice (which she described as "the Sergeant-Major") when talking about not being able to meet those "minimum" expectations. And it's true; if you constantly berate yourself for not achieving something, that is, for most people, not a way to motivate yourself to achieve that thing. (It may well work for some people — I am not one of them.)

Conversely, when I think back over the times when I have had the most success getting myself to achieve something — or the times when I've been most convinced by another person to do something — it's always been when kind, gentle encouragement is on offer. A recognition of the fact that something might be difficult, at least to begin with, but a calm suggestion that I at least try something and see how I get on — and if I'm not able to achieve the Grand Target right away, that's fine! Taking a first step is still a step on the road to success, and however small that first step might be, it's better than stumbling so hard you decide the whole thing just isn't worth bothering with at all.

So this is something for me to work on. Acknowledge my successes. Take things one step at a time, a little at a time. Track my progress to celebrate my achievements, not to measure up how close I am to an arbitrary target that ultimately means nothing to anyone but myself.

Because, frankly, I can do that. Look at the post number on this post. Contemplate the fact that this is the third time around on this train, and I have successfully been motivated to do that day after day. This is exercise for the mind. Exercise for the body can be achieved in a similar way. One day at a time, a little at a time, until you wake up one day and you've achieved something that is important and worthwhile to yourself. Others may not recognise your achievement in the same way, and that's fine! It doesn't matter. So long as you have achieved something that you, yourself, find fulfilling, you have succeeded. And you can build from there.

To quote Soul Blazer, which I finished recently (and wrote about! and made a video about!): "Like good sleep comes after hard work, good rest comes after an honest life." I'm not planning on reaching "rest" any time soon, of course — touch wood and all that — but I do, honestly, want to ensure that I have no regrets. And living that honest life comes by taking things one step at a time, recognising your achievements every step of the way.

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The post #oneaday Day 770: Motivation: the Sergeant-Major vs the kind voice appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

There are a couple of reasons this has been a slow process. Firstly, I'm using a cheap-ass USB DVD drive, which I think is knackered. It's developed that particular trait that cheap-ass and knackered technology does where just breathing anywhere near its USB cable causes it to disconnect and then reconnect again — which, when you're talking about a storage device and attempting to get media off it, is not ideal.

Secondly, these CDs must be more than 20 years old. This is part of the reason I'm looking forward to having a play with them again: any music created with them will be so gleefully anachronistic that it will be an absolute delight. Back in the early 2000s, when I first got them, they may well have sounded clichéd. But now! Now they will just sound dated and stupid! And I live for dated and stupid.

The CDs in question were part of a range of packs that the "eJay" label put out, ostensibly (I guess) as an option for those who wanted to move on from the super-fun but rather simplistic Dance, Techno and Hip-Hop eJay sample sequencers, each of which came with a bunch of their own samples. These ones, meanwhile, covered a wide variety of different styles, including various forms of dance, house, techno, hip-hop, trip-hop, alternative, grunge, pop, industrial and many others. It always used to be a great joy putting mismatching samples together to see what happened, and I'm sure that's going to be even more fun now a lot of these "genres" don't really exist any more — at least in the same form as they did in the early 2000s, anyway.

Originally, when I first got these CDs, my school friends and I had a loosely organised collective known as "sonicfunkstars", which is still my Xbox Live Gamertag to this day. We made a bunch of silly (and not-so-silly!) tracks between us, and I get nice fuzzy feelings of nostalgia when I listen back to them. What's that? You want to hear one? Well, I think that can probably be arranged.

This is Txtr's Thumb, which I specifically composed to irritate the piss out of anyone with a Nokia mobile phone. Which was absolutely everyfuckingone at the time I made this. Its impact is somewhat diminished today — unless you have specifically set your phone up to make Nokia noises, which is a possibility, if you're one of those weirdoes who doesn't have your phone on silent at all times — but it does have a thumping beat that I was pretty pleased with back in the day, and still enjoy now. Bonus points for the unnecessary, pointless and nonsensical "lyrics". Baby. Baby! Everything, baby.

More? More.

This is Let's See Your Todger, which is composed almost entirely out of sound clips I recorded on my MiniDisc player of a Theatre Group rehearsal at university. If that doesn't give you some idea of how early 2000s we're talking… well, there you go. Also, sex noises (which weren't actually sex noises, but we thought they sounded like sex noises), which are funny.

One more, go on then. I should probably assemble all these onto a proper page at some point.

This is Good Times, which was an attempt to create the cheesiest-sounding thing possible with the samples I had available. We were into our cheese, we were, while we were at university, so I wanted to pay homage to that in my own way. It even features multiple Boyband Keychanges, just for added fromage factor.

That's a little taste of sonicfunkstars for you. At some point, as I say, I'll pull all this stuff together and archive it properly, along with the stuff I worked on with a pal during teacher training under the name Angry Jedi. Yes, indeed, the source for the original URL of this blog. But I think that's probably a tale for another time at this point.

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The post #oneaday Day 769: Sample CDs and sonicfunkstars appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Yeah, I know. Hardly worth making a big song and dance about, is it. But I tried to analyse why I fell off doing doodles on this site in the first place, and it was because I think I was trying to do a bit too much too soon. I thought that if I got a fancy graphics tablet and started faffing around with a fancy piece of software, then some sort of latent artistic ability would suddenly emerge and I would be able to produce something truly amazing, immediately.

Of course, it doesn't work like that. Not only does producing things that are genuinely amazing take time and effort, everyone also has their own distinct ways of working that they find most comfortable. For me, that has always been stupid little stickmen with oddly expressive faces. And so, I think for the immediate future at least, the stupid little stickmen with oddly expressive faces are back for now.

The thing I've always liked about doing the stupid little stickmen with oddly expressive faces in the past is that they make me think a little bit about what I've just written. I wouldn't go so far as to say sketching a companion doodle for a post makes me really reflect on things in any great depth, but it does at least make me think about how — and if — it would be possible to get the general vibe of the post across using a quick and dirty doodle.

Often that takes the form of a stupid joke. Back when I did three-panel comics on this blog — which I know at least one person enjoyed, but no-one else ever mentioned, so I stopped doing them just in case I was actually embarrassing myself with them — there were even some running storylines that went along with the blog posts, and sometimes the blog posts and the comic storylines would feed off one another in various ways. That was always pretty fun, actually, but like I say, outside of one once-regular commenter who I haven't seen for a long time (I hope you're well, Jud!) and my wife Andie, who bought me a large canvas print of one of my comics that still hangs above our bed, no-one ever really mentioned them, and I had no great designs of being "a webcomic" or anything anyway; it just seemed like a fun thing to do, and I had a copy of Comic Life on my Mac, so things just sort of went from there.

When you have your own site, though, I think it's important to make your own little mark on it somehow. I mean, obviously you already do that if you're writing things on it, but we are creatures that respond well to obvious visual stimuli, so if the overall look of the site helps get someone's personality across, so much the better, I say. I have tried to do this to a certain degree with the use of the Atari ST's system font for headlines — I tried putting the whole site in it once, but several commenters said it was difficult to read, and it probably was — but nothing beats a bit of scrappy artwork from someone who doesn't really do visual arts.

I've told the story of why I like drawing expressive stickmen many times before on this blog, but for the benefit of those disinclined to go searching through the archives, it stems from, as so many things do, my time at school.

I did pretty well for myself at secondary school. What eventually turned out to be an autistic spectrum condition (though I wouldn't know that until several decades later) meant that I kind of thrived in the structured environment where I was always learning things. But I wasn't, like, the school swot or anything. I had a mischievous streak, which was brought out of me by my friends — and particularly my good friend Edd, who I sat with in many different lessons.

Edd and I liked to doodle. We would doodle all sorts of things, all the time. It was one of our favourite activities — though we knew not to do it anywhere that we might get in vaguely "serious" trouble for. No drawing on desks, no defacing school property, and no doodling on our exercise books that the teacher would mark. (I must confess, however, that during one especially memorable Year 7 Humanities class, my other friend Daniel Blyth and I went through an entire History textbook and drew at least one dick on every single page. My favourite was the one that was poking out of a Roman water gourd, inexplicably shouting "I SCREAM!")

No, Edd and I would doodle on paper that we would specifically bring in for that purpose, or our "Rough Books", which I know I have talked about multiple times on this very site, so I won't tell that specific story again. But anyway. Given the opportunity to doodle, we would take it. And one of the things that we loved doodling was stickmen doing stupid things.

One of the earliest things we did with stickmen began in German lessons, which were so boring we eventually came to the conclusion that was some sort of temporal disruption around the Modern Languages department. (I successfully freaked several of my friends out by using the "countdown timer" feature on my snazzy Casio digital watch to make it look as if time was indeed running backwards.) We livened things up with "The German Stickmen", which was a four-panel comic in which two people would argue about something really stupid in German in the first frame, the second frame would devolve into them yelling "Nein!" "Ja!" at one another multiple times, the third frame would always be one of them shouting "ACHTUNG!" (like in Wolfenstein 3-D, see) and drawing some form of (usually explosive) weapon, and the final frame would inevitably involve some form of extreme violence or, most commonly, a mushroom cloud.

Over time, our ambitions for the stickmen became more elaborate. We'd already "created" (and I use the term loosely) the characters Edlock Holmes and Watson as a result of our shared enjoyment over the point-and-click adventure games The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes: The Case of the Serrated Scalpel and Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis, and when we went on holiday to Gran Canaria together, we produced an epic-length stickman comic, drawn in extreme haste and with no real care, called Fate of Thingy. This thing took on a life of its own and was rewritten multiple times, and I still have it somewhere — though I think it's missing one or two pages. The intent, you see, was to do a "rough" version of the comic using stickmen, then when we got home we'd do a "proper" one. I did, indeed, start doing a "proper" version, at one point, but we both decided we liked the stickmen so much they would become the canonical versions of Edlock Holmes and Watson. As Fate of Thingy continued to expand across multiple parts, all further development was in stickman form — and continued to be on the bright yellow legal pad Edd had acquired from his mother's workplace, until we ran out of that and had to start using bog-standard notebook paper.

So yeah. Stickmen are important to me, as ridiculous as that might sound. I have an intense, nostalgic and emotional attachment to them. And thus I think they should continue to be an important part of this blog. I will, therefore, from hereon, endeavour to provide you with a stupid little doodle to accompany each post (except when I really can't be bothered). Is that enough of a commitment for you? Well, tough shit, because it's all you're getting.

Nein!
Ja!
Nein!
Ja!
ACHTUNG!

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The post #oneaday Day 768: Sketchin' appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

It's a fair question. Over the course of the last eighteen years, I have written 3.35 million words on this site across 4,642 posts. (Okay, technically a chunk of those were originally posted on my now-defunct blog on Patreon, but since that effectively took the place of this site while it was active, I am counting them.) I could stop at any point. In fact, I have stopped on multiple occasions. And yet something keeps bringing me back. And, moreover, every time I come back, the absolute last thing on my mind is to get the lying, lake-boiling plagiarism robot to "write" something for me.

Because why would you do that? If you want to write, just fucking write. Generative AI isn't "democratising" the creative process, as some people argue, because the creative process was democratised the moment everyone could afford writing implements and things to write on. Moreover, if you get the stupid dumbass robot to regurgitate some vapid garbage on your behalf, you have not written that. You do not deserve any credit whatsoever, even for "engineering" the prompt. You are a lazy, feckless idiot who does not want to do something creative; you want to fill the world with more content that no-one actually wants. To quote a memorable Reddit post I saw once in response to someone like this: "best of luck on something literally no-one, including you, will read."

"Oh, but it helps for resear-" Shut up. Shut up. It demonstrably gets things wrong a statistically significant proportion of the time, thereby making it completely worthless for research by its very definition.

"Oh, but it helps for brainsto-" Shut up. Shut up. What you are talking about is the creative process. Brainstorming is part of it all! The creative process doesn't start the moment you start typing, writing, recording or using your tools. It starts the moment a little light goes on in your mind and you have a vague idea that you want to make something. It starts the moment you get a flash of a character you want to construct. It starts the moment you get the hint of a melody. It starts the moment you read something else that inspires you to want to write something on the same subject — as I am doing right now.

I do not want generative AI. I did not ask for generative AI. I have no use for generative AI. And I think people who rely on generative AI to conjure some shit up out of a vague prompt rather than writing things themselves are, as previously noted, lazy, feckless idiots who have no interest in genuine creativity. They do not care about the quality of their eventual output; all they care about is that they have produced content. Consistency of content is key! Churn it out like a good little drone! Doesn't matter if it's good or not, so long as it gets engagement!

(Aside: I will begrudgingly admit that generative AI does have some potential use cases, but only as part of a human-led workflow and only if it is not being used as a means of attempting to replace the skills and knowledge of a real person. Even then, I can't help but feel there are other, less damaging ways to achieve the same thing — often with better results. And, indeed, many things that are now labelled as "AI-powered" are, in fact, not generative AI-based — they are just using "AI" as a supposedly fashionable buzzword, apparently blissfully unaware of the growing distaste for anything labelled "AI", when what they actually mean is "computer-controlled" or "based on machine learning". The auto-accompaniment mode on the Yamaha keyboard I used as a child would probably be labelled "AI" today when it is nothing of the sort.)

I often find myself thinking about all this, considering that I write something on this site every day as the result of a self-imposed but only loosely enforced challenge — and part of that challenge is to just write something, regardless of if it ends up being any good. At no point do I feel like I am creating content, because I am not doing this for anyone other than myself, and I am certainly not doing it for "engagement". I am doing it because I enjoy it; because I find it a helpful means of expressing myself; and because, occasionally, it allows me to form a connection with another person, when something I have written resonates with them, for one reason or another.

This website has over 3.5 million words on it, but not a single one of them has come from a machine. Not a single one of them has been written out of a desire to create content. Every one of them has come out of my brain because I wanted to write them, because there was something I wanted to express, because there was something I wanted to remember or because there was something I wanted to process. This may seem like a stupid, pointless website to the casual observer, but to me, it is immeasurably valuable.

If I had sullied even the tiniest bit of it with generative AI, it would no longer be mine. And yes, I'm aware that by the very virtue of it being On The Internet, it has probably already been ingested into one or more of the AI models out there. But I'm not taking it down or giving up on this valuable means of self-expression, because fuck you, Clammy Sam Altman and Wario Amodei, that's why.

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The post #oneaday Day 767: Why I continue to write in an age of AI appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Answering the phone by giving your phone number to the person who just dialled it. This is one of those things that, when I was young, my Mum gave the impression of it being really important. I always felt weird doing it, but we continued doing these even after phone numbers got longer. "Great Gransden [xxx]" became "[xxx][yyy]". (Numbers censored so you don't phone my parents, who are still at the same house and phone number.)

Answering the phone at home with a "script" to determine who is calling, please? If I felt awkward reciting digits to a mystery person before I knew who it was, I felt really awkward acting like a receptionist. I wonder how much feeling obliged to do this as a kid has contributed to my general distaste for using the telephone today.

Having a phone number that, excluding area code, was three digits long. Yep, really; we had an area code that was five digits long, and a phone number that was three. During my childhood, this changed to a different five-digit area code with a "1" as its second digit, and which covered a wider region, and a six-digit phone number.

Being able to accurately dial a full-length phone number using a rotary phone and not panicking halfway through that you're not sure if you pulled the "9" around far enough. The phone in our hall was a rotary one. While I never really liked having to use the phone, dialling it was pretty fun. If you like mechanical noises, I encourage you to go play with a rotary phone, as it makes some very good sounds.

Being able to remember at least five phone numbers that were not your own. At some point, I could remember my own phone number, my Nan B's phone number (but not my Nan D's), my friend Matthew's phone number, my friend Edd's phone number and the phone number for my school. And possibly some more. Now I can just about remember Andie's mobile number… plus my parents' phone number, which is the same as it's been for nearly 50 years (and used to be "mine" also) so that one's kind of cheating.

Having a phone that actually rang, like, with a bell, not an electronic beeper. Again, the hall phone had a proper ringer and dear Lord it was loud. Heaven help you if you were standing next to it when it rang. Interestingly, every so often I do think I hear a proper ringer phone somewhere — I believe they might use them in places like construction sites still, as that piercing ring can be heard from a mile off.

"Going on the computer" being a discrete activity rather than the default behaviour. Get home from school, do homework, have dinner. Then, if I had been "good", I could maybe "go on the computer", as long as my Dad wasn't using it for anything. I feel like we lost something when we plugged ourselves into our PCs semi-permanently — and definitely when we effectively started carrying around a tiny PC in our pocket.

Sweet treats costing less than a pound each. There was an ice-cream man who came to our school every lunchtime — I assume (hope) he had some sort of special arrangement with the school — and he sold cans of drink for 30p, and "2p sweets" for… well, you know. (You could buy a bag of 2p sweets, too. I don't think we got screwed over with those.) Nowadays you'll pay a quid or more for a can of Coke, and the same again for a basic bitch chocolate bar. Don't even get me started how a "quick trip to the shops for some snacks" can end up costing £40 or more these days.

Going to a newsagent and coming out with something paper that you can read. I'm not even sure we have a newsagent anywhere near us any more. There's a pathetic little "Magazines" section in our local Sainsbury's, but it's nothing compared to the glory days of my Mum getting pissed off at my Dad for standing around reading Computer Shopper in WHSmith rather than actually buying a copy. I internalised my Mum's objections and preferred to buy a magazine that I wanted to read; it was much more fun reading it at home at my own pace.

Going out of the house to be with people who shared an interest. While I'm eternally sorry that I'm just a little bit too young to have been able to enjoy the phenomenon of "Computer Clubs" and "User Groups" in the early days of the 8-bit micros, when I was a kid I did have things that I went to each week and enjoyed, along with my peers. Cub Scouts was probably the highlight of these; that was an interesting time where I learned a lot of things that I probably otherwise wouldn't have found out about, had the opportunity to go (extremely heavily supervised) camping, and just generally had a pretty good time. I know that "interest groups" for grown-ups do exist, but I don't really know where to begin looking for them these days — particularly with all the dogshit information that is out there on platforms like Facebook these days. I miss the simplicity of your parents just knowing that there's a Cub Scout pack in the next village over, and wouldn't you like to join it, your friends are going to join!

So there you are. That's my age. I hope you enjoy it.

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The post #oneaday Day 766: Verify your age appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

(That said, I'm here, aren't I? So maybe it's all starting to solidify again a bit.)

Patti, being a black cat with a fairly dense coat, has been suffering a bit in the heat, I think. She has taken to spending most of the day in what we call her "hole" — a little bit of the catio that attaches to the cat flap in the back of the house, and which is now a nice shady spot because Andie has put a bunch of seedling trays on top of it. She seems fairly content when she's in there, and she's up, about and active when the worst of the day's heat has passed by, so perhaps she just has the right idea — sleep through the worst of the heat and get up to cause mischief as the sun starts to set. And yes, she's getting plenty of water and the opportunity to cool off in the air conditioned bedroom whenever she wants.

Oliver, meanwhile, has been just fine. He's very much back to his old self: full of energy and mischief, and putting across the distinct impression that he doesn't even know what the word "sad" means. I am glad. I was concerned that his experiences living rough for three weeks might have traumatised him in some way — and perhaps they have — but he certainly seems to have adjusted back to life with us perfectly well.

The only real change we've seen in him — aside from all the weight he had lost when we first found him, which he's mostly put back on again now — is that he seemingly wants to be near one or both of us the vast majority of the time. He doesn't necessarily have to be interacting with us directly — sometimes he just wants to sit on the floor in the hallway near where we're working, or lying on the floor in the spare room next to my study, knowing that I'm there. He also follows me around the house even more than he did previously, which is adorable, but I do worry that one day I will trip right over him!

Andie is also suffering a bit, as she's on some medications that make it difficult for her to regulate her temperature, which I'm sure you can probably appreciate are not ideal to be taking in the middle of a heatwave. I am… kind of sort of OK, aside from the melty brain predicament I described at the start of this post. I often catch myself just sort of staring into space, wanting to go and do something fun, but having great difficulty mustering up the energy and enthusiasm to do so. Still, acknowledging that I am doing this thing, much like I acknowledge elements of my self, thoughts and feelings in therapy, is a helpful step towards breaking out of that cycle and going to do something.

The next challenge I need to tackle is exactly what to spend the remainder of the evening on. I could play some more Soul Blazer, or some Final Fantasy XI, or some Rhythm Paradise Groove, or some Star Fox, or…

Oh dear. I think my brain melted again.

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The post #oneaday Day 763: My brain has melted appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Here is a list of tech-related things that, through no fault of my own, have occurred in the last week:

• My Windows 11 PC inexplicably took twenty minutes to start up. There does not appear to be anything actually wrong with it. It has had every scan, virus check, hardware tweak imaginable run, and has had Windows completely reinstalled multiple times. Once Windows starts, it is mostly fine, with the following exception:
• When browsing the Internet, occasionally both Firefox and Chrome will just… stop doing anything, to such a degree that they prevent the rest of Windows from doing anything. Checking logs indicates that nothing is particularly happening on the CPU, memory, storage or network front whenever this happens, it just… happens. Firefox does it marginally less than Chrome did, thus I have switched to Firefox.
• When using my computer to browse Nextdoor, which is a site that eventually paid off during our search for Oliver, scrolling down more than about a screen and a half will cause the entire website to completely shit the bed, moving its sidebar to the middle of the screen before snapping you back to the top of the feed you were attempting to scroll through.
• When using my phone to browse Nextdoor, a post where someone said the bin men had just been and not taken their bin remained at the top of my feed for the entire three weeks that Oliver was missing.
• My keyboard just told me it had "low battery" despite being plugged in. I unplugged it and replugged it in and now it claims to have 98% battery.
• My keyboard doesn't charge while plugged in if I don't have the Razer software running.
• My mouse can have its wireless signal blocked by a packet of crisps.
• My PC game controller sometimes requires turning on three times before it's actually turned on.
• The Bluetooth on my work PC refuses to turn on despite showing as being present and working.
• When listening to YouTube videos while falling asleep, at least 8 times out of 10, the app will randomly close itself for no apparent reason in the middle of a video.

It's frustrating that, when you're someone who takes good care of their tech — as I always have been — stuff just… fucks up after a while for no apparent reason. My woes with Windows on my living room PC are a longstanding issue that I am at my absolute wits' end with; I am getting perilously close to installing Bazzite and being done with Windows, particularly now I no longer need to work on this machine. Oddly enough, I have had zero Windows-related issues with my work mini PC, other than the Bluetooth problem, which may well be hardware-related.

I just miss the time when you bought something that was expensive and fancy, that it worked, and it continued to work for many years after you spent lots of money on it. Still, I knew that age was long past all those years ago when I updated my iPhone 3G to the latest iOS and it became completely unusable. I still went and upgraded to an iPhone 4 like a big mug, though, didn't I? Twat.

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The post #oneaday Day 757: Nothing works any more appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

However, in more recent years, I have come to somewhat lose faith in the police as a whole. I would go so far as to question what on Earth they are actually doing any more, having been in situations where a police presence would have obviously been quite helpful — mostly antisocial behaviour in the street, and particularly little scrots racing obviously stolen motorbikes around the area — and not seeing anything actually worthwhile happening.

I always used to enjoy watching shitty television like Police Interceptors, particularly when I am away from home, like I am this evening for the monthly trip to the office. But nowadays I just find them frustrating to watch, not because of the interesting things you see the cops in the show doing, but because of the inevitably disappointing follow-ups that inform you that despite all the hard work of the officers on the ground in a particular case, nothing of any actual note really happened to the people who deserved either some sort of consequences or some justice for what had happened.

Take the episode I caught part of this evening. A significant portion of the episode consisted of the police discovering a strange house that had seemingly been sitting empty, but which a local had seen some suspicious-looking individuals apparently breaking into. Upon arrival at the scene, the investigating officers found a machete case and what seemed to be some bloodstains on the floor. Once the armed police unit had been called in for backup, they investigated the house and discovered that it was not so empty at all; it, along with its next-door neighbour, which had had a hole punched through the wall to connect the two, was being used as a cannabis farm, with plants worth over half a million quid on site.

As part of this investigation, the plants were seized, as you might expect, and some fingerprints were found that you would think might lead to some further investigation. However, the programme made the disappointing announcement that after all that, "no further action was taken".

Look, I get sometimes that it's not possible to bring people to justice for their crimes — and that police dramas on the television, where the noble officers always get their man, are not at all reflective of reality. But quite often it feels like after a token "visible" effort has been made — while the cameras are on, in the case of a show like Police Interceptors — then something causes "the police", collectively, to just sort of shrug its shoulders and go "ah, well, probably wouldn't have caught them anyway" or something along these lines.

This must be inordinately frustrating for the officers on the ground who are pursuing these criminals with the hope of bringing them to justice. Can you imagine feeling pretty damn good about yourself for uncovering half a million quid's worth of drugs, and then discovering later that pretty much nothing was done about it? I can imagine that being exceedingly irritating — but unsurprising, given the amount of bureaucracy that goes into anything involving "local authorities" these days, be it teaching, policing or getting potholes fixed.

I also completely understand those who mistrust the very concept of the police on the grounds that the service continues to struggle with institutionalised discrimination, both within its own ranks and towards potential suspects. There has been outright violence and rioting in my city as a result of this sort of thing just recently — I don't really know all the details, but from what I understand, it has left a lot of people looking at our local police force in a somewhat less than complimentary light.

I'm pretty sure the residents in the area I live in are frustrated, too. There's a house just down the road from us that is very obviously one of the sources of the reckless teenagers racing around on obviously stolen motorcycles — because the obviously stolen motorcycles are parked outside the house. And it's obvious that they're stolen, because the lineup parked there seems to change on a pretty much daily basis. No-one buys and sells that many motorcycles in that short a space of time unless they are up to no good. And yet I know the police have been informed of this on multiple occasions by a variety of people, and yet nothing has been done.

So what even are they doing any more? I don't know. What I do know is that these days, I feel much less inclined to trust the police than I did in the past. And while in some ways that makes me feel a bit sad, in others I feel it's a sensible, healthy attitude to take, particularly as the world seems to be sliding inexorably towards global authoritarianism.

It's been said many times before, but we really are living in the absolute worst, most tedious cyberpunk dystopia that ever existed. We're getting pretty much all of the shit that sci-fi authors warned us about, with none of the fun stuff.

Oh well. Perhaps one day this will pass.

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The post #oneaday Day 752: What do the police even do any more? appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I mention this because I am seeing more and more reports of a "literacy crisis" that appears to be arising, primarily as a result of "BookTok" (i.e. people on the odious short-form video platform TikTok who supposedly talk about books) and "book influencers" (i.e. people on a broader range of primarily video-based social platforms who supposedly talk about books). Most recently, the thing that has come up is some of these people complaining to authors when they come across a word they do not understand — and rather than looking that word up for themselves, using it as an opportunity to learn, they instead throw their toys out of the pram and get very mardy, even going so far as to throw around terms like "ableist". (Fuck off. Your assumption that disabled people can't read is the ableist perspective here.)

This sort of behaviour is absolutely unthinkable and unfathomable to me. I have always loved it when I learn new words, concepts or ways to express myself from things that I've read. There are turns of phrase I picked up as a child that I still use to this day, and I relish the opportunity to make use of a word that I've recently learned.

I am also more than happy to look something up if I'm not sure of it. I actually tend to find this happens more often while I am writing than reading; I'll be tapping out a sentence, and for some reason a particular word that I'm not entirely certain of the definition of will pop into my head as maybe-possibly being appropriate for the situation. Rather than shying away from using that word for fear of appearing stupid by using it incorrectly, I will look it up, determine whether or not it is, in fact, appropriate for the situation in question, and then, if possible, make good use of it. It's not out of a desire to appear "clever" or to baffle the reader with my vast vocabulary; I just find it fun and satisfying to discover new ways in which one can play with language.

I've always been like this. I started reading books that were well ahead of where I was "supposed" to be as a kid, so by the time I got to primary school I was reading things several "Levels" ahead of my peers and taking on considerably more challenging reading comprehension exercises. By the top end of primary school, I was busting out words like "antidisestablishmentarianism" and "floccinaucinihilipilification" in the morning Daily Spellings session in Class Four, and being able to correctly use them in a sentence.

I apparently once also terrified my parents by, one day, aged maybe three or four, coming down the stairs and immediately quoting the beginning of Genesis to them. In this particular instance, it was not a "reading" thing — I hadn't been secretly ploughing through the Bible in between episodes of the Mr. Men — but rather a quotation from a cartoon I had recently watched on video. I guess it's connected, though; I had found the whole "In the beginning…" speech striking, so I wanted to deliver it in my own childish way. That's still a way of playing with language, just using the spoken word and listening instead of reading and writing.

The concept of "BookTok" makes me angry. It is completely beyond me exactly how anyone thought a community of people who make short-form attention-deficit videos online were ever going to come out with anything particularly worthwhile to say about a medium that rewards taking your time and drinking things in. And the very term "book influencer" makes me bristle. We never should have accepted the marketers' insistence than "influencer" is a valid job description. It's disgustingly dystopian, particularly since "influencer marketing" is now an established part of promoting any sort of product online.

I love language. I love reading, and I love writing. It makes me by turns sad and furious that, in the space of a generation or two, we appear to be losing all respect for the written word. Just the other day, I saw someone online earnestly recommending that anyone who wanted to spend their time talking about a favourite topic should "just become a TikToker" rather than starting a blog. I bit my tongue at the time because I couldn't be arsed to start a fight, but it just made me feel weary more than anything.

What are we doing? It almost feels like a deliberate attempt to siphon all the "culture" out of society, perhaps in an attempt to ensure that none of us step out of line or express any sorts of "dangerous" opinions.

Funny, I think there are a few books about that…

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The post #oneaday Day 751: Read/write access appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Andie has been spending some time putting up window screens, which will have the dual purpose of "cat-proofing" the windows and allowing us to cool the house down somewhat by actually having the windows open. Obviously we are not keen for any sort of repeat of the last three weeks, so we are hoping that this particular solution — some seemingly well-crafted screens for the windows, attached to the frames via Velcro — will prove adequate. Oliver has not yet attempted to escape through one of the open windows and the house is significantly cooler than it has been for the past few days, so it's looking like we might be on to a winner.

Of course, we're still both extremely worried that he will somehow find his way out again, particularly if he succeeds in figuring out how to remove the window screens — if, indeed, he figures out that is a thing that is possible. Thus far he has shown no interest in wanting to move or scratch them — indeed, both cats have mostly just seemed appreciative that they can enjoy a bit of fresh air coming into the house, particularly now that there is a bit of a breeze coming in from outside, rather than the oppressively still and humid air of the last few days.

It is good to be able to leave the air-conditioned bedroom and enjoy a relatively normal existence in the rest of the house. Today I have mostly been playing the new Star Fox, which you can read more about over on MoeGamer. It's also actually our wedding anniversary today, but we never make a particularly big deal out of that. We are grateful to our respective parents for their generous financial gifts, however; those are going a significant way towards us being able to have another holiday in September as a "do-over" of the one we just had — and hopefully this time without the anxiety of a missing little ginger twat.

Oliver himself appears to have pretty much made a full recovery. He is behaving just like he used to — right down to showing an unhealthy interest in batting my Senran Kagura collection off the shelves in the living room — and is jumping up to his favourite high places, including the top shelf in the catio and the top of our media cabinet. He hasn't yet been back up to the very top of his cat tree, however; he's been most of the way up, but not all of the way up. We think he's dealing with a combination of still being a bit weak in his back legs (something the vet mentioned) and potentially still having a bit of trauma over being stuck up an actual tree, and thus perhaps not wanting to climb too high. His back legs are a lot stronger than they were already, however; he's been jumping up onto things without issue, and playing with things like the silly little deeply, deeply loved kitten he is.

Patti has also mostly adjusted to Oliver's return. She is still hissing at him a bit if he gets too close, but one gets the impression her heart really isn't in it. Earlier today, Oliver went right up to her and rubbed his face on her, and she hissed quietly, but didn't attack him and didn't actually appear to be all that bothered. I think she just feels obliged to appear mad at him, because she absolutely definitely won't admit that she was missing him and pining for him while he was absent.

Anyway, all in all, it has been a pleasant Saturday, and in the knowledge that some of the most difficult, time-consuming and challenging projects at work are now pretty much done, I actually feel like I can properly relax for the first time in quite a while! I recommend it.

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The post #oneaday Day 750: Cooling and cat-proofing appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Over the course of our discussion, I described a curious phenomenon that I've been sort of passively aware of for a while, and that is the fact that I don't really remember living through my thirties. Specifically, the period between about 2009 and (I estimate) about 2016, 2017 or so is a length of time that I feel just sort of… disappeared. And the disappearance of that period — and possibly a bit more either side of it — is what leads me to feel like things which were actually Quite A Long Time Ago are still relatively "recent" or at least fresh in my memory.

I hadn't really contemplated why this had happened, but it didn't take long to figure out: I had a rough time in that period. Let's ponder, shall we?

In 2009, when I was 28, I lost a job that I had previously thought would have me set for life; it was a job that I loved, that I was good at and which even paid reasonably well for the time. Unfortunately, it was snatched away from me by some true shithead managers who were on a real power trip at the time, and that kicked off a very long period of exceedingly uncertain employment.

In 2010, my first marriage fell apart for reasons that, in retrospect, I understand, but which, at the time, had me feeling the lowest I have ever felt. Having lost my job and, now, my partner, I was left alone in a flat I couldn't afford to keep living in, with no job, facing down the prospect of having to move back home with my parents. At the time, this felt mortifying; now, of course, I am exceedingly grateful to my parents for having supported me while I was at my lowest until I was able to pick myself back up and effectively start over.

In the following years, I will keep the details vague out of respect for the individual in question's privacy, but I found myself supporting someone with an addiction problem. I had no idea how to do this, and there is not really a "how-to" guide on doing this effectively. The person in question conquered their issues pretty much by themselves (and by that I mean "without professional psychiatric or medical assistance"), and I will be eternally impressed by and proud of them for this, but the experience of acting in a supporting role at the time left me with… some emotional scars, shall we say. I am not entirely sure I have fully processed everything that happened at this time, though I should also add that I lay no blame or ill-will at the feet of the affected person, and that's all I will say on the subject.

During these years, I was working regular freelance for various websites. I had a good gig working for GamePro, but we all got given the boot just before Christmas one year. Some time later, I worked for USgamer, but got laid off from that particular gig on my birthday. These were the most "regular" jobs I'd had since 2009, and it had not gotten any easier over the years to know what I was "supposed" to be doing. Every time I felt like I was getting somewhere, it felt like the rug would get pulled out from under me.

I took a job in a completely unrelated field — updating website content at energy company SSE — but found myself fundamentally incompatible with the incredibly patronising way that company does business, and got unfairly dismissed at the end of my probationary period. Some time later, I found myself doing a similar, equally tedious but mostly inoffensive job at sports tech maker Garmin, which was stable but absolutely mind-numbingly boring. I left that one voluntarily (and on good terms, which was a nice change) to take up what would eventually become the position I hold to this day.

All along the way, I was feeling a sense of near-constant instability, like I could never settle; like I had never reached an unknown destination I felt like I was constantly on the way towards. I faced setback after setback, challenge after challenge. At times it felt like I wanted to give up. But I eventually made it to where I am today, with a stable home life, a stable working life and stable financial security. It was realising that I had those three things that made me feel like I had, at last, been able to properly "start over", and that my life was no longer a thing of shame; a string of endless difficulties and non-achievements that just didn't appear to be going anywhere.

So in retrospect, I'm not really surprised that I don't really remember my thirties all that well, because a lot of things happened, and a significant, statistically significant proportion of them were Bad Things that I'd really rather not dwell on. I know those years happened — and there are probably blog posts covering a lot of them right here on this site — but, even knowing that they probably helped shape the person I am today and helped strengthen my own resolve as a "survivor", it's hard not to feel like it would be nice to have them all back.

Still, that's not a thing you can do, unfortunately, so here I am, at 2am in the morning, aged 45, pondering a lost decade of my life. Do I have a point to all this? You'd think I would, wouldn't you. But you know what? I don't think I do. And that's probably all right.

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The post #oneaday Day 749: The lost decade appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

For some reason, certain people are bitching and moaning about other people — those from countries where air conditioning isn't a cultural norm (because it wasn't needed in the past) — expressing discomfort in the extreme heat we're dealing with. Specifically, there seem to be a lot of Americans mocking Brits for finding temperatures of nearly 40 degrees Celsius quite uncomfortable. And this, in turn, leads to a lot of stupid arguments. Just, y'know, stop it. Accept that this is a particularly unusual situation, and that this leads to people struggling.

I mean, clearly this is not a normal situation, or a sustainable one. It's been so hot today that most of our freezer appears to have spontaneously defrosted, despite the fact it's still on and seemingly working. It's been so hot today that if you put a bottle of frozen water in front of a fan in an attempt to cool the air a bit, the ice becomes water in the space of about five minutes.

I am grateful for the fact that, a few years back, we got a portable air conditioner for the bedroom, because without it I feel like it would be literally impossible to sleep right now. I have spent a significant portion of today in the bedroom — thankfully, I am in the middle of doing some QA testing, which I can do from the bedroom — because the rest of the house feels barely habitable right now.

I feel for the poor cats. They're clearly finding the heat quite difficult to deal with, and are both spending quite a lot of the day napping in areas they find to be nice and cool. They're getting plenty of water, and they're coming to spend time with us in the bedroom when the air conditioning is on, though; they both know the sound of it, now, and very much seem to enjoy sitting right in front of a nice blast of cold air.

The sun is going down, so hopefully things will cool off a bit from here. It's supposed to cool down a bit tomorrow, but what we really need is a great big thunderstorm. That would be lovely right now. But there doesn't appear to be one imminent just yet. Here's hoping one comes along soon, otherwise we'll be spending the whole weekend in the bedroom!

On that note, I'm going back to the air conditioning. Stay safe in the heat, all of you!

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The post #oneaday Day 748: It's really fuckin' hot appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

It's hard to believe that this whole saga is over — and over in a way that is about the best possible way it could have resolved itself, outside of him coming home a little bit earlier. We took him to the vet today to get checked over, and outside of him having lost a bit of weight and muscle definition on his legs — unsurprising given his three weeks living rough — he has been given a completely clean bill of health. This is our last remaining worry put to rest: he is back, he is alive, he is safe, and he is healthy. Evidently he was a very lucky boy — and a clever boy for taking care of himself for so long; things could have been much worse, and I am grateful to anything that will listen that things did not end up that way.

Patti has not yet adjusted to his presence. She was very clearly missing him, because we caught her looking for him, she was acting incredibly clingy and occasionally letting out the most heartbreaking plaintive howls of an evening. But as soon as he came back, she was puffing up, growling and hissing, and she's spent all of today in the wardrobe. The wardrobe is a safe place. She is fine in there, she's just not quite ready to come out again yet. But she will get there.

As for Oliver himself, he is doing just fine. He's clearly very tired by his whole ordeal — and who can blame him? — but he's already settling back into his usual routines and behaviour. The one and only thing that has really changed about the way he behaves is that he is a lot more vocal now than he was before he escaped; he is spending a lot of time shouting at us, which is probably an aftereffect of him calling for us up the tree last night. He wants to know that we are nearby, and that he is safe.

The one thing we'll probably never know is where he went for most of those three weeks. Given that we found him a couple of hundred yards down the road, he probably didn't go all that far, but aside from him being stuck up a tree last night, we have no insight as to where he might have been. Was he locked in somewhere? Quite possibly. Was he taken in by somebody? Probably not, as otherwise he'd probably be a bit more well-fed than he is now. Did he just get lost? Entirely possible, as he's never been outside in this neighbourhood before, and thus even though we left him plenty of familiar scents outside, he was unable to find his way home by himself, even though he was so close. So very close.

The hardest thing about the whole situation was contemplating the possibility that we might never see him again. There are things everywhere in the house that remind us of him. There's some cat plushies on the shelves in the living room: a black one and a ginger one, for Patti and him. There's a little stained glass thing depicting a black cat and a ginger cat hanging out together on the shed. The wallpaper on my living room PC was Oliver. The avatar I used on Facebook and Nextdoor was Oliver. Days before he went away, I set my blog to automatically set a "Featured Image" on every single post that didn't already have one, and for the image in question to be one that showed Oliver and Patti napping together. I couldn't even contemplate booting up Tomodachi Life: Living the Dream for Switch, because I made anthropomorphised versions of Oliver and Patti in that game, and playing it while we didn't even know if Oliver was still alive or not would have absolutely broken my heart even more than it was already.

For me, one of the worst parts of dealing with some sort of loss is seeing all the remnants that are left behind, and deciding what you are going to do with them. Just little things that remind you of who or what you have lost; sometimes even the simplest, silliest little thing can bring you to tears. Back during a particularly bleak period in my life circa 2010 — the time I split from my first wife and was faced with essentially having to completely "reset" my post-graduate life and start over — I described these things as "crystallised memories", and it's a description I stand by. There they sit: a solid, tangible reminder of something that was once in your life and now is not. It can be difficult to let go of them, but sometimes that is the healthiest thing to do.

Thankfully, none of that was necessary this time around. And while there most certainly was a great deal of grief while Oliver was away from home, we can now thankfully set that grief aside and appreciate how lucky we are to have someone we love so much and that we feared we'd lost forever return to our lives, safe and well. Sometimes amazing things really do happen, seemingly against all odds.

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The post #oneaday Day 746: Decompression appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Oh my God. I am an emotional wreck, and so is Andie, but our brave little boy managed to survive for three weeks out in the wilds of Lordswood, and we found him this evening thanks to a tip from a kind neighbour on Nextdoor. I had a feeling that either Facebook or Nextdoor, for all those platforms' many, many faults, would be the main way in which we tracked down our precious boy — but it certainly didn't hurt to advertise him on all manner of different services, even if it cost money to do so in some cases.

Our neighbour, Sam, reported that they had seen a ginger cat on his security cameras recently, and that they'd also been hearing a cat crying from the property over the road from them for a little while. We went out to go and check the area on the offchance that we would find at least a clue — and we heard a yowling from up in the tree. I knew immediately that it was Oliver. Oliver has never been a particularly vocal cat except under quite specific circumstances — usually rolling on the patio in the sunshine — but I recognised his voice straight away, and as soon as I saw him up there, I knew.

We couldn't work out how to get to him, though. The tree he was up was on private property — a children's home, I believe? — and initially we couldn't work out how to get in touch with them. When we did manage to run into a staff member leaving the property, they basically said they couldn't (or wouldn't) help us and said we'd have to wait until the morning, even though we made it clear Oliver has been missing for three weeks, and this was the first time we'd seen him.

So from there we tried to work out what to do next. Do you actually call the fire brigade when a cat is stuck up a tree? Apparently Hampshire Fire Service has a specialised animal rescue unit, but they are somewhere not in Southampton, and they weren't answering their phones. I called 101 and asked the police what we should do, and they said to phone the fire brigade. I phoned the fire brigade and they said that no, they don't do that, it's an urban legend.

So then what? I tried the 24-hour RSPCA hotline for animal welfare, but it turns out that it is not, in fact, a 24-hour service. I tried calling a local tree surgeon who had a 24-hour hotline for animal rescues, but again, it turns out that it is not, in fact, a 24-hour service either. Seemingly no-one was willing to help, at all. No-one that you would think to try calling in a situation like this was going to help us. Panic started to set in.

On the off-chance, I posted an update on both Facebook and Nextdoor that we had found Oliver, but we needed help. I honestly wasn't expecting anyone to come — but three very kind people showed up at various points, all very kind, considerate and understanding of our situation and our emotional state. Eventually a chap who was clearly some sort of tradesman in possession of an absolutely massive ladder — and who had clearly done this many times before — showed up, shot up his ladder and was back down with our precious boy in less than five minutes. Amazing.

Anyway. Fuck me, that was an awful three weeks. On the plus side, I can get back to writing about other things on here now, which I'm sure you'll all be delighted to hear. Thank you all for your patience — and for the kind words you have had to share during this absolutely, mindblowingly traumatic three weeks! I'm just glad it all ended well — though we're taking Oliver to the vet for a checkup tomorrow just in case.

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The post #oneaday Day 745b: Oliver's return, the kindness of strangers, and the unkindness of the people you might need in a crisis appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

That's not to say we're giving up on him — we had a single possible but completely unconfirmed sighting of a cat that may or may not have been him in the woods some distance from our house (but within a plausible radius of where he might have roamed over the course of three weeks) and thus have spent several sessions combing that section of woods at various times of day to no avail; I went yesterday afternoon after we got the comment; we got up early and went at dawn this morning; and I walked all the way from our house to this part of the woods this evening. There was no sign of him at any point.

I don't even know if we're looking in the right place. There are so many potential places he could have gone. The thing with the area we live in, known as Lordswood, is that there's a fucking great wood covering a lot of it, and thus if he found his way into there, which is entirely possible, heaven only knows how we're ever going to track him down and bring him home.

The one thing I am trying to tell myself is that when I make an excursion like this evening, I am hopefully leaving some sort of scent trail that might help him to find his way home. Lord knows I was sweating enough to leave a stink trail by the time I finished my wanderings this evening, but who knows if that's enough? I certainly don't, because as I've said, we've seen absolutely no sign of him anywhere for the last three weeks, meaning we have no idea if we're looking in even the right direction. That said, given how we believe he escaped and the fact he did not appear on the cameras mounted on the front of our house when he did so, we have an instinctive feeling as to which way he went, but no actual proof.

I haven't ruled out the possibility that he has been taken in by someone, either. And if that has happened, I have no idea how we'll find him, because if the people who take him in never take him to the vet or a shelter or get his microchip scanned by a volunteer, he won't get flagged up as his home being here, and the fact he is away from a family who love and miss him very much. If this is what has happened, I just hope that they will do the decent thing.

If that is not what has happened, I am at something of a loss as to what else I can do at this point.

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The post #oneaday Day 744: Trying to maintain hope appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Well, the answer to the last one was easy; at some point in the last couple of years, I feel like I've got to a point where I'm in a relatively comfortable position in terms of finances — after many years of finding money an absolutely panic-inducing but unavoidable aspect of life, this is good — and thus I didn't feel that making what is a fairly substantial financial commitment to my own wellbeing was something that would be inadvisable.

Technically, you can get talk therapy on the NHS, of course, but my past experiences with that haven't been great — because yes, I've tried. In practice, what happened was that I got referred to a scheme by my GP, but left to my own devices to follow it up — something which I found very difficult to do — and when I finally mustered the courage to join said scheme, I found it absolutely, definitely did not fit my needs at all, as it was a group therapy session, and that was not a situation where I felt, in any way, comfortable.

I'd stumbled across a local organisation known as The Empathy Project a few times during past sessions of research, so this time around I decided to actually be proactive and contact them directly. Their therapists aren't the cheapest around — though they do have a scheme where those on more limited incomes can take advantage of semi-subsidised sessions — but they seemed like a legitimate organisation, and as good a place as any to actually see if Getting Some Professional Help was actually, well, helpful.

I will add that I started attending therapy sessions well before my current situation with Oliver, so thankfully I was in a somewhat more coherent, clear-headed place than I am right now — and I am glad that I already had everything sorted out well before I, as you might look at it, really needed this kind of support.

Anyway, to those of you considering starting some sort of talk therapy: I recommend it. It is Very Good to have a place where you feel like you can say the things that perhaps on a day-to-day basis you don't feel you get the opportunity to say under normal circumstances — or which, for one reason or another, you don't feel comfortable expressing. It is Very Good to have a place you can go where someone will listen to whatever you have to say, however much difficulty you might have explaining it, or however worried you might be about people not taking it seriously. It is Very Good to have a place where, if necessary, you can burst into tears and the only other person present there knows how to handle that.

Therapy is not a magic bullet solution to all the things that ail your mind. Mental health is complicated, and many of the things you struggle with are likely to be ingrained over the course of years, even decades. You will have times where you feel like you make progress, and times where you feel like things have gone a bit backwards. But it is a place where there are no wrong answers to difficult, abstract questions, and where, if you allow yourself to let go of many of the usual social restraints you might place upon yourself when around family and friends, you can freely express things that have been bothering you — and perhaps come to realise quite how much some of them have actually been affecting you. At the other end of the spectrum, it is also sometimes the case that things which have felt like they have taken over your entire life for a certain period sometimes just need you to be able to talk about them in a safe, non-confrontational and non-judgemental environment.

All this is to say that in the time I've spent in therapy so far, I've found it very helpful. I still have a lot of work to do on a lot of things about my life and my mental health, but already I have found myself able to acknowledge a bunch of things that are perhaps difficult to contemplate independently, to say the least — and I'm sure I will continue to discover things in subsequent sessions. I just need to get through this current particularly bleak episode in the saga of my life to be able to move forwards.

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The post #oneaday Day 743: Talk therapy appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

This will, in its own curious way, reflect what happened in 1983, where a significant portion of the game-playing world — the UK and Europe, notably — were blissfully unaware of the problems the broader games business were suffering, because they were enjoying the fruits of a thriving cottage games industry. Here in the UK, we had no idea a "crash" was happening across the pond because we were all cheerfully buying £1.99 Mastertronic tapes from our local corner shop.

Something's gotta give, though, because the relentless torrent of shit that is coming out from shareholder-beholden companies — particularly with regard to the odiousness that is generative AI — is completely unsustainable. And we've reached a point where all but the most ardent bootlickers are feeling more and more emboldened to criticise what's going on — though sadly this also coincides with a period where thousands of people are being laid off and games aren't actually getting any better.

Take this statement attributed to Sony, posted on Bluesky earlier today:

This is a complete nothing of a statement! It says nothing! It gives precisely no examples of how AI "improves productivity", "drives efficiency, personalisation and customer value at scale" and "unleashes the creativity of Sony Interactive Entertainment's studios"! It is five paragraphs that explain nothing and say nothing, but which exist purely to, supposedly, placate shareholders who, apparently, have absolutely no functioning brain cells between them and desire nothing more than every stupid fucking company to follow every stupid fucking trend in existence, even when they are demonstrably, actively harmful and just plain shit!

I am mildly heartened that a number of developers are starting to speak up a bit more about this. There's a good piece on Aftermath on the subject, and another on gamesindustry.biz. There are still the annoying sycophants in every single comments section who all parrot the exact same lines about "the genie being out of the bottle" and "get used to AI or get left behind", but there is, I feel, increasing resistance to that side of things. A lot of smaller-scale developers are also making a good name for themselves by saying, out loud, and prominently, that they do not use generative AI at any point in their development process. Good!

The utterly dumbshit thing about corpos like Sony sucking Sam Altman and Wario Amodei's robophalluses is that there is not a single documented instance of a project involving generative AI being well-received by either press or public. I'm not even convinced that it's actually what shareholders want to see. The otherwise excellent Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 was soured for a lot of folks (including me) when it was found that they had used generative AI for "placeholder" (sure) assets, and likewise for the apparently also very good The Alters. New projects coming out that are revealed to be using generative AI are subject to mass shunnings and censure from press and public alike — and rightly so. It is starting to feel less and less desirable to have any involvement whatsoever in the top end of today's games industry — a once-exciting, vibrant place — and more and more understandable when people choose to focus their time and attention on both small, independent projects and retro titles.

On top of that, the very generative AI that all these shareholder-appeasing corpos are rushing to use for no real specified purpose is becoming increasingly responsible for pricing people out of games and tech! No good having "volume and diversity of content" (ugh) if no-one can fucking afford the devices to play it on, is there?

All this can easily be avoided! We have been making games for a very long time without the use of a glorified Autocorrect trained on stolen data! I find it near-impossible to believe that every game developer has suddenly completely forgotten how to do things the way we've been doing them for many years at this point, just because you can tell "Claude" to churn you out some spaghetti code using conversational English. And yet. And yet.

I don't know exactly what a "crash" is going to look like in this instance, but I feel like it's not going to be pretty — and the potential knock-on effects concern me somewhat. Like, if games consoles go away — and with the current tech pricing situation, that's a real risk — what does that then mean for people who like to collect games, and for the long-term archival of games using physical media? There are so many potentially terrible things that could happen that I don't feel like the world of video games has adequately prepared for, and it's really quite worrying.

Still, if the worst comes to the worst, I have shelves full of games, many of which are complete-on-disc or complete-on-cart, and a fully-loaded MiSTer. I could, at this point, duck out of "modern gaming" at any time — and with each passing month, it feels more and more like I might end up doing that.

To pre-empt the inevitable comments from weirdly aggressive generative AI-boosting corpo bootlickers: fuck off; you are not welcome here, if the above doesn't make that abundantly clear already, and your comments will just be deleted, so you may as well just not bother. Hope that helps!

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The post #oneaday Day 742: Crash and burn appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

For me, it's like being inside a bubble of sorts. I can see the world going on around me; I can hear it; I can even interact with it. But I feel an almost total disconnect from it. It's like I'm on a slightly different plane of existence; reality kept at arm's length. Close enough to be familiar and still just about within reach, under most circumstances, but far enough away to making going about normal, everyday things varying degrees of "challenging", ranging from "begrudging reluctance" all the way up to "this feels like a completely insurmountable task that I will never be capable of". And the challenge factor doesn't necessarily relate directly to how difficult the actual task is; as an example, the simple act of talking to people I know and like right now feels very much like it's up around the "insurmountable" end of the scale. Not quite there, because I can just about carry on a conversation right now, but not something I am deliberately seeking out if I absolutely do not have to.

It can be disconcerting, and the description of it as a "bubble" is perhaps not the best one; bubbles, after all, are fragile, delicate things that can be popped at a moment's notice, while whatever encloses my mind at times like this is much more… solid-seeming. And it weighs you down; it drains the energy and vitality from your mind and body, and makes, as I say, just going about your regular, everyday business feel like an enormous effort; a toil that never ends.

And the worst thing is that being in this state is weirdly addictive. I recognise this about myself. I recognise that when I get into a state like this, something in my brain almost wants to remain this way, even though another little voice in my brain knows that it's unproductive and unhelpful, both to myself and to the people around me. It becomes a battle between different aspects of my consciousness, I guess; the more primal, emotional part of myself wants to continue to wallow in the darkness because there's a strange sort of comfort there, while what I would probably describe as the more high-functioning, pragmatic part of myself wants to tell me to… just do something, whether that's a simple thing like doing something enjoyable that might take my mind off things, or something more complex and long-term that might lead to some sort of solution (or at least resolution) to the problem I'm experiencing.

At the moment, the primal part is winning. I am right in the depths of that bubble, and normality feels a very long way away. I don't know if it's slipping further away or getting closer, either; the feeling changes from moment to moment. Sometimes I feel like I am just going to have to accept that Something Bad has happened and try to move on from it; at others, I feel like I described the other day, like everything has come to a screeching halt until this particular "episode" of my life has concluded in some fashion.

This is all very abstract I know, and I'm almost certainly mixing metaphors and whatnot. But this also just happens to be the sort of musings that dribble forth from my brain at times like this, as particularly longstanding readers of this blog will be well aware, I'm sure.

I have little doubt that I will eventually manage to make it through this particularly bleak period of my life one way or another; I have survived plenty of other episodes like this in the past, and I'm sure there are plenty more to come in the future. But right now, if I seem a bit off, or if I don't really want to talk, or you get the distinct impression I just want to be left alone… well, as I said the other day, it's probably not you, and it is most definitely me.

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The post #oneaday Day 741: The bubble appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

This is one of those times where I feel like I need to have a word with my inner self, and say that it's okay to look after me. Oliver is important, and we desperately want to find him, but if the process of searching for him, worrying about him and generally running ourselves completely ragged is having an impact on our physical wellbeing, it's probably time to take a little break, at least for one evening. Patti is also sad, upset and clearly worried about us.

We have done everything that the people who copy-paste the exact same comments onto every single "missing pet" Facebook post suggest. We have put things that he likes and things that smell of him outside, we have put food outside (which, on separate occasions, got eaten by another neighbourhood cat, and attracted a fox), we have left open the window that we believe he escaped through, we have been out calling softly for him, we have sat out in the garden having a normal conversation so he can hear us, we have motion sensors on our security cameras set to notify us the moment they see an animal.

At this point my only real possible conclusions are that he is locked in somewhere and hasn't been found yet — which, with every passing day, makes me very concerned for his wellbeing; that he has been taken by someone, either because they saw a lovely cat looking lost and thought they'd take care of it, or because of more nefarious purposes, which I don't like to think about (but also feel is probably quite unlikely); or that he is no longer with us, in which case I feel like he probably would have been found by now.

I know I keep repeating myself, but hopefully my post yesterday makes it clear why. I do not feel like I can "continue" with my life while I don't know what has happened to my precious boy. And I'm worried that I am going to be left feeling like this for a long time. What if we just… don't hear anything at all? What then? Are we stuck in a perpetual limbo of hoping that he'll just make it home somehow, seemingly against all odds? Or do we attempt to make our peace with the situation, try and say as best a goodbye as we can in his absence, and try to move on?

I can't bring myself to do the last one. Not yet, anyway. I still feel like one evening, we're just going to see him saunter around the corner as if nothing happened. It does sometimes end up like this, and I am hoping that this is one of those situations. But with every passing day, it's harder to hold on to that hope.

I'm off to try and distract myself. Tonight I will be having a go at Adventure of Samsara, Atari's exploratory platformer that apparently has some connections to the 2600 version of Adventure. Hopefully it takes my mind off things for a bit at least.

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The post #oneaday Day 740: Exhaustion appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Thankfully, as discovered by my mother-in-law, Agnes, who was looking after her while we were away (as well as looking out for Oliver on the chance he would return of his own accord), it is possible to establish a new Routine with Patti quite easily. It takes her a few days to become accustomed to the presence of Agnes — a process which always leads to initially begrudging and eventually enthusiastic acceptance of her as the temporary primary cat-caregiver — but by the time we come back they are always the best of friends.

This time around, Agnes was delighted to describe that she and Patti had established a new Routine for each day: Patti would spend each day either sitting on our bed or the windowsill, while Agnes would potter around in the garden and do all the tidying up we told her not to do while we were away, because she should be taking it easy. Then, when the evening came, Agnes would sit in my customary spot on the sofa in the living room, Patti would jump up, and Agnes would brush Patti. This became such an established Routine over the course of the last week that apparently on the one evening where Agnes did not follow this Routine, Patti went and fetched her from the other room until she got her nightly brushing to her satisfaction.

Patti is spoiled. She has been ever since we got her. She didn't have the best start in life, as she was apparently abandoned by her previous owners, and this led to her being a somewhat nervous, timid girl, especially around strangers. This, of course, led to us wanting to create the happiest, most safe-feeling home she could possibly have. She deserves it, we figured. Our hearts melted the moment we met her, and she has been the most wonderful companion ever since.

She will habitually run and hide whenever someone unfamiliar (or someone who simply hasn't been here for a while) comes into the house, but she is loving, tactile and very vocal with the pair of us. When we first met her at the local shelter, she was described as a "lovely girl" but "shy". What they didn't tell us — or they didn't know — was that those two things were not simple descriptors of her personality, but rather her two different, distinct modes. She is a lovely girl sometimes (with us), but she is shy at others (around strangers). I see the fact that her lovely girl side has only flourished over the years she has been with us as reflecting well on us as her caregivers — something which we would probably both do well to remember while we keep blaming ourselves for Oliver's disappearance.

So yes, although Agnes has gone home this evening, Patti has had her brush on the sofa. She knows something is wrong — how could she not, with Oliver's sudden absence, because Oliver absolutely adores Patti to a degree that she would sometimes rather he tone down a bit — but she has seemingly already come to the understanding that we are doing our very best to return things to normality as much as we can. I hope and pray that means we can return Oliver to her as soon as we can — but regardless of what happens, she is going to get even more love, care and attention than she already does. She is our little princess, and she deserves all the happiness in the world. I just want, more than anything, to reunite her with her annoying little brother, and for our family to be whole again.

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The post #oneaday Day 738: Spoiling Patti appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I am, of course, still absolutely sick with worry. It has been two weeks today that he went missing, and whatever happens, I am always, always going to be wondering if there was more we could have done — more we should have done. There are zillions of online resources out there saying what you "should" do when a cat goes missing, but a significant proportion of them appear to be AI-generated drivel and pseudoscience.

I am not willing to give up on him, though. At this point, it feels like it will be unlikely that he will come home by himself for whatever reason, but I still want to go looking for him and will be doing so when we return home tomorrow. I don't know if I will be able to achieve anything — over the course of two weeks, it's entirely possible he could have gone a long way, although most supposed "experts" (with the caveat above) seem to believe that cats who spend the majority of their time indoors, as Oliver did, won't have actually ventured very far, and are probably hiding silently somewhere they feel is "safe". This, unfortunately, makes them extremely difficult to track down; the most supposedly reliable advice appears to be to bring things that are "familiar" to them — things that they recognise the smell or sound of.

Part of me is concerned that he has simply been taken by someone. Not necessarily stolen as such, but perhaps he was seen somewhere, the owner didn't think to get his microchip checked, and now thinks that they have a wonderful new cat in their family. If that has happened, I have absolutely no idea how we would go about finding him — although if this has happened, his status will be flagged up if and when he is taken to the vets or a shelter or something, and that, in turn, would allow us to be reunited. But that, of course, depends on the person in question thinking to take him to a vet or shelter — if indeed this is the situation in which he has found himself.

As I've said repeatedly over the course of the last two weeks, though, the absolutely impossible thing throughout all this is just not knowing anything. What made him jump out of the window? Which way did he go? Was he just exploring, or was he running from something? Is he hurt? Is he hungry? Has he been taking care of himself for the last two weeks? Has someone else been taking care of him for the last two weeks? I don't have any answers, and these myriad questions swirling around my brain are driving me absolutely spare.

I'm supposed to be going back to work on Tuesday, and it'll be right back into a difficult, stressful time, too. Honestly I'm not sure I'm going to be able to cope. I am wracked with pain, sadness, guilt, anger, frustration and all manner of other emotions, and I still don't really know how to process any of them, or how to direct any of them in a vaguely productive direction — either for getting some work done, or for tracking down our precious boy.

As with any difficult time, I guess it's just going to have to be a "one step at a time" sort of situation. I want to think this is all going to end happily and become a funny story to share in the years to come, but I am also fearing the worst. I don't want to lose him. He is so, so precious to me.

There is nothing I can do from where I am right now, though. Tomorrow is a new day, and we can decide what we need to do from there. So the best thing I can probably do at the moment is get some rest and try to come to tomorrow as alert and refreshed as is possible under the circumstances.

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The post #oneaday Day 737: Returning to reality appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Both of them suffer from pretty much the same problems, and both are a result of the now well-documented phenomenon that is enshittification. In fact, it's almost uncanny how similar the two platforms' problems are — with the only real difference being that Nextdoor isn't trying to push AI-generated softcore porn "Reels" at me every five posts.

One of the main problems with both of these sites — and with a lot of other social media sites in general — is their insistence on providing a non-chronological feed of Stuff. Instead, they decide to surface relentless parades of absolute sewage that their mysterious "algorithms" believe are "Relevant" to you. In practice, what this means is that you get bombarded with a bunch of stuff that you don't give a shit about — often repeatedly. And the stuff in question is, more often than not, spam or outright scams.

On Nextdoor, for example, there's a post that is supposedly from an alcoholic person that keeps showing up in my feed despite my having shown no indication of any interest in it. I don't know what the point of the post is and I don't really want to know, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it's some form of advertising. Likewise, on Facebook, I'm continually confronted with "Suggested" posts that are very clearly adverts, but positioned in a way that is clearly designed to be incredibly deceptive towards those who aren't particularly Internet-savvy.

Then there's the notifications. Oh, God the notifications. Nextdoor is the worst for this by a significant margin. Given that the only thing I have posted on there is the request for people to look out for Oliver, one might naturally assume that the only notifications I might be interested in would be responses to that post. But no! Here's what my notifications look like as of this evening:

You will notice that none of these posts are anything to do with Oliver. You may also know that none of these posts are from people that I know. I'm not even convinced that they're all from people in the same area as me.

I get the intent behind this shit: the idea of Nextdoor is that it is supposed to build a community of neighbours, and one way of getting neighbours to recognise one another is to stuff them into each others' notifications, whether you want them or not. But this is not useful! The very point of notifications is so that you can get notified when something happens that you have been waiting to hear about! When you're dealing with a stressful situation like losing a pet, the last fucking thing you want is to see a notification pop up, think that someone might have a lead on your precious companion, only to find that it's someone who doesn't know which "there" to use whingeing about bin men or complaining about parking or some other such crap.

I don't have a great deal of faith that either of these sites are going to help us find Oliver. The one vaguely positive thing I can say in Facebook's favour specifically is that members of "lost pet" groups are proactive in resharing people's posts to other groups that you might not have joined yourself. That increases the visibility of your original post and, in theory, makes it more likely that it might cross the path of someone who might be able to help — although that, unfortunately, has not happened as yet.

Still, it's something, at least, and posting on these places is something that I can at least monitor while we're away from the house. It hasn't come to anything as yet, but it only has to come to something once for it to have been worthwhile. So I guess we'll have to wait and see — but I suspect once we get home, it will be back to searching for him ourselves and hoping, wishing, praying for his eventual safe return.

It's our last full day away tomorrow, and that will also mark two weeks since Oliver went missing. I still don't know how to feel, other than sad, upset and frustrated. But in a couple of days' time, we're going to have to at least attempt to move on with our lives as best we can in the meantime, and whatever happens from thereon, happens.

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The post #oneaday Day 736: The sewage of social media appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

This began with our customary trip to the one restaurant we always pay a visit when we come to Center Parcs: The Pancake House, an establishment that, I believe, is fairly self-explanatory. They offer an excellent range of both sweet and savoury pancakes, and you can have each dish made with a large Dutch pancake, a stack of American pancakes, or an omelette if you're some sort of crazy person.

We both went for our usual orders: Andie had the apple and cinnamon crumble pancakes on Dutch, and I had the "New Yorker" (pictured), which is listed under "sweet" pancakes but is actually just a stack of American pancakes with bacon and (optionally) a fried egg, plus maple syrup. Very good.

After that, we weren't quite ready to return to the lodge and potential intrusive thoughts, so we went to go and play pool for a bit. I haven't played pool for a long time and have always sucked at it, but thankfully Andie also sucks at it too, so we had a fairly even best-of-three session. Andie ended up beating me 2-1, and it was deserved. I played well in my first game (which I won) and got pretty consistently worse with each subsequent game. My excuse is that it was hot and sweaty and humid in the pool hall, and I'm sticking to it.

Following that, we came back to the lodge to sit for a bit; I played a bit of Ace Attorney and Andie stared at a knitting project she's had trouble starting. Then we thought going for a swim would be a nice distraction; turns out that it was. A bit of time in the outdoor Sprudel pool and bubbly jacuzzi was nice and relaxing, then we went down one of the water slides, played in the wave machine for a bit, and then we were ready to head back and have some dinner.

All in all, although we're both still very sad and anxious, today ended up being about as nice a day as it's possible to have under the circumstances, and a demonstration of something that is always worth remembering during your bleakest moments: sometimes it pays to just get up, get out and go do something rather than staring into the middle distance being miserable about something which, at that exact moment, you cannot really do anything about.

Tomorrow we will still feel sad and anxious, I am sure. There will be many more tears before we get any sort of closure on this whole horrible situation, I am equally sure. But I will keep telling myself: it is important to continue to take care of yourself, as well as worrying about the wellbeing of those who are precious to you.

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The post #oneaday Day 735: Many distractions appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I will, of course, grant you that the reason the wildlife is so very tame is because it has been so thoroughly spoiled by the humans in this space — and I won't pretend that we are immune to such temptations. Not only that, I will not deny that it is probably bad for wildlife to become dependent on food provided by humans. But I prefer to look at it as these animals coming to live in harmony with the people who visit here; it's abundantly clear that they're all more than capable of taking care of themselves in the wild, they just enjoy getting a treat or two from the suckers who inhabit the various lodges.

Discovering that the site here plays host to wild cats was one of the strangest things. I don't think I had ever seen a wild cat prior to coming here a few years back, but apparently there are so many on the site that it's a bit of a problem at times, as you can probably imagine. Non-domesticated cats have a tendency to breed, after all, and cats are pretty good predators at the best of times, so one can imagine that it's easy to throw a delicate natural balance out of whack if the population explodes too much.

Thus, it's unsurprising to see that at least some of the wild cats here show signs of if not having been "domesticated" as such, then at least kept under control somewhat. A particularly persistent (and seemingly well-fed) one that kept paying us a visit today had a clipped ear, for example, which suggests at the very least that she exists on someone's records somewhere, and likely has been neutered in an attempt to keep the population under control.

Is that really "natural balance" if humanity has to intervene in that way? Perhaps not, but the very nature of the site has already thrown the natural balance out of things somewhat out of whack anyway, so I suspect the most sensible thing to do is at least attempt to compensate for such things as best we know how. I do not know a thing about how one goes about such things, but I'm sure there are men with graphs and flipcharts who have calculated things very effectively at some point in the management process of this whole place.

Anyway, my point is: it is nice to be able to open your curtains and see a deer, or a squirrel, or a jay, or a cat. They all seem to be having a thoroughly lovely time, and I'm not about to stop them doing so.

Meanwhile, we're hanging in here, just about. The animal friends are helping a bit.

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The post #oneaday Day 734: Wildlife appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

The distractions have been good and welcome, but it's still tough, I don't think either of us will deny that. But we are at least managing to have a reasonably good time while we're away, which is the important thing. In some respects it might even be a good thing that we don't hear anything while we're away, as it means that the worst hasn't happened — or if it has, no-one has found him as yet. That means, I like to think, that he's still out there somewhere, waiting to be found — or perhaps just waiting to wander his way back one day and saunter in as if nothing had happened.

Stranger things have happened, as I've said a few times before; cats are well-known for their independence, after all, and even my beloved family pet from when I was a child disappeared for six whole weeks once, apparently. I don't remember this at all; I guess I must have been too young to remember when it happened. I do remember the time she got hit by a car and fled into a bush in a nearby field; we managed to track her down, get her to the vet, and she eventually made a full recovery, going on to live a very long, full and happy 17 years of life.

But still. As I keep saying, it almost doesn't bear thinking about right now, as far away from the situation as we are in physical terms. And I think we are slowly coming to terms with various unfortunate truths… or at least possibilities. None of them are particularly nice possibilities to contemplate, and thinking about them too much still upsets the both of us… but we are, gradually, bit by bit, able to get through each day without becoming completely non-functional.

It remains to be seen how we'll be when we get back, of course, depending on what — if anything — has transpired in the meantime. I feel like the best case scenario at this point is that he's found wandering around somewhere, taken to a vet, gets his microchipped scanned (which will immediately flag him both as missing and as living with us) and will thus be able to return to us safe and sound. But that is, I am aware, a very optimistic hope for how this will all end up.

I guess there's no point wondering "what if". The human brain doesn't work that way, however; the human brain, it seems, is uniquely designed to wonder "what if" as much as possible, as often as possible. And it's a function that, at least in my brain, it's near-impossible to turn off.

Still. It's the end of another day and, as always, we continue. Tomorrow is yet another day, and it remains to be seen what it will bring.

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The post #oneaday Day 733: Distractions appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

This is a problem that both Andie and I have; if we find ourselves in a silent (or near-silent) atmosphere, both our respective minds tend to go into overdrive and focus on things that are… shall we say "unproductive", or perhaps unconducive to good mental health is perhaps a better way of putting it.

To put it another way, while the Aqua Sana has plenty of absolutely lovely facilities for just lying back, relaxing and even falling asleep, the quiet, calm atmosphere of the whole place — even our fellow guests tended to speak quietly — meant that we'd often end up thinking about our dear, precious lost boy. And, as harsh as it might sound, that's not really what we wanted out of the experience; we wanted an escape for a little while, because both our respective hearts and souls are so battered, bruised and broken after all the worry and uncertainty of the last week.

Our thinking behind still coming away on our holiday was that we'd be able to draw a temporary line, enjoy ourselves as much as we could while we were away, then, if it was still necessary, continue the search upon our return; meanwhile, we knew that Andie's mum would be taking care of our house and Patti, and would be ready to welcome Oliver home if he were to find his way back by himself.

So far that has not happened, and with each passing day I find myself worrying more. Where is he? How far has he gone? Has he been able to look after himself while he is missing? Has someone taken him? Or is he in distress somewhere, alone and scared? And if that is the case, how on Earth do we find him?

I know, deep in my heart, that there is no real way that I can guarantee I will be able to find him, and I also know, deep down, that we might never see him again, or be able to say a proper goodbye if he is no longer with us. That doesn't stop it hurting, though.

Everything will be all right in the end. It always is. As my therapist says, I am a survivor. I will get through this, just like I have got through all the other challenges life has thrown my way over the years. I just never thought dear, sweet, innocent, playful little Oliver would ever present one of those challenges — at least, not for many, long, happy years of companionship, anyway.

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The post #oneaday Day 732: Quiet contemplation is not always ideal appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Regardless, we are some distance away from, practically speaking, being able to do anything about his disappearance right now, so all we can do is attempt to enjoy ourselves. We are safely ensconced in our villa, the weather is nice, and this is the view out of the back door:

Green. Green everywhere. It is nice. I feel a certain affinity for foresty settings. I have always liked coming to Center Parcs precisely because they're all slap bang in the middle of a forest, and when I was a youngster, I always used to like trips to Waresley Wood, a nearby small woods that also, as I recall, played host to a sewage works, which was nice. You could tell which way you were going from the smell in certain areas.

I always feel somewhat mixed feelings about being out in nature. I certainly, on the whole, enjoy the experience of being in natural surroundings, and find the general environment to be rather relaxing. At the same time, though, I am always very conscious of the number of things that live in Nature that are more than willing to sting me, bite me or just generally make me very itchy. And these things are not always immediately apparent — though I do tend to tread specifically carefully when I'm in an unfamiliar and somewhat "untamed" environment; memories of enduring the irritation of a brush with some stinging nettles as a kid remain surprisingly vibrant, and I'm not keen to repeat them as a grown adult.

I am hoping the time away will help us. We have been so worried for the last week that it's just completely exhausted the pair of us. As I type this, Andie has just climbed into bed and gone to sleep. It is not even 6.30pm, but I do not blame her one bit. We have been fretting so much over our silly little man, and both of us are still worrying over him, even though we've both agreed that to just go ahead with our time away is the best possible thing we can do with regard to our own self-care.

And like I've said before: Andie's mum is looking after our house and Patti while we are away, so if Oliver does happen to show his face — or if we hear from someone who has seen him — she can take any sort of action that might be needed. Hopefully, that action will just be "shut the little bugger in and seal up all the windows for the rest of eternity" but… well, as I've said numerous times over the last week, we just don't know.

Anyway, I am going to make a specific effort to try and enjoy my holiday now. We miss you, Oliver, and we would love it if we would be able to come home to your smiling face on our return next week. For now, please be safe, take care of yourself… and go make a lot of noise at a sympathetic-looking person who will help you be reunited with us.

We have no particular plans for the rest of the day. I'm off to see if Andie actually wants to wake up at all today, or if we might as well start our holiday properly from tomorrow!

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The post #oneaday Day 731: Temporary escape appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

It's not giving up. It's an acknowledgement that we have made an effort to try and find him, and thus far those efforts have been unsuccessful. This could mean any of a number of things: that he's no longer with us; that he doesn't want to be found; that he's gone far enough afield that we haven't been able to run into him as yet; that he's lost and doesn't know how to find his way home; that he's ended up locked in somewhere he shouldn't be; or that someone has taken him in, perhaps even thinking "ooh, I always wanted a cat, I'll keep this one".

Since we don't know the exact reason we have been unsuccessful as yet, it seems like the most sensible thing to do is just to wait and see if any of the seeds we have planted — by which I mean the social media posts, the leaflets, the informing of various local organisations — will bear fruit. This may end in tragedy — I hope it won't, but it might — or it may end in joyous reunion (and a very, very grounded cat). At this point, we just don't know, and as I've said numerous times over the course of the last week, that is one of the most difficult things about the entire situation.

Because we don't know what has happened, we're left in a strange sort of emotional limbo, where all the things we want to feel are both correct and incorrect at the same time. For me, the things that I am holding onto the most are 1) that he hasn't been found, having been hit by a car, on the side of the road somewhere, and thus is hopefully still out there somewhere, and that 2) there are many, many stories of cats who go missing for weeks at a time, who then subsequently come home safe and sound. Apparently my childhood cat, Penny, disappeared for six full weeks at one point, because she had "moved in" with another family. My only concern about this latter potential situation is how to find him if this has happened, and if the people he is with are honest enough to get his microchip scanned and return him to us.

But here, at nearly 7pm on Sunday night, the day before we're going away on holiday, I think I have to draw a line and say "that's everything I can do… for now". Andie's mum is holding the fort while we are away, so if he does turn up he will have a welcoming face ready to spoil him rotten, and if he still hasn't shown up by the time we return, we can continue our efforts to search for him then.

As I say, it's not giving up. It's giving ourselves permission to take a step away from what has been a horrible, stressful week, and to give ourselves some very much needed self-care. I sincerely hope this story has a happy ending, but for now, I guess it is on a hiatus of sorts.

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The post #oneaday Day 730: Having to draw a line appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

It's not as if I haven't tried to do so. But I feel like any time I have attempted to — with the exception of my therapist yesterday, who is trained in such matters, and my family members, who have been through situations like this and thus understand — I have simply got a response that is, at best, a cursory "oh, Pete, I'm so sorry" and then nothing much after that.

I'm not really sure what I'm expecting or wanting from other people, to be honest. But something about it just doesn't quite feel… "enough", you know? I am here, devastated at the potential loss of a family member — because make no mistake, Oliver is a family member — and I feel like a lot of people I've expressed this to have pretty much forgotten this fact almost as soon as they have given the appropriate response as defined by the unwritten social contract we all agree to.

To be clear, I'm not angry at anyone who has responded this way and I'm not annoyed that very few people have reached out to see how I'm doing as the week goes on. I know that everyone has their own things going on in their lives, and their own priorities of things to care about. I cannot reasonably expect people who are not directly involved in this situation to care about it as much as I do. I know that.

But I think what the problem is, is that this is putting my overall loneliness somewhat into perspective. There simply are not very many people left in my life that I feel like I can express these things to, and that they will give a shit. It is at times like this where you really feel like you need people in your life to support you, to uplift you, to distract you from the dark thoughts swirling around inside your head, and when you simply don't really have that outside of your immediate family members, it can feel a tad difficult to deal with.

I think about how I might feel if someone close to me was dealing with such mental anguish, and how I would want to be there to support them. I think about how I have been with people who were once close to me who have been through similarly challenging periods of intense, sustained emotion. Perhaps I am the one who overdid it? Perhaps I was overbearing, smothering? I don't know. It felt like the right thing for me to do at the time, and the people in question seemed to appreciate it, too.

It's just so difficult. Like I say, I really don't know what emotion I am really "supposed" to be feeling right now, because the fact is I simply still do not know what the situation actually is. All I know is that Oliver is missing, and his condition is unknown. And until we learn something more about what has actually happened, that uncertainty is going to be probably the leading cause of the intense sadness and frustration that both Andie and I are feeling right now.

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The post #oneaday Day 729: The struggle for your emotions to be heard appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

There isn't necessarily anything wrong with that. Suffering a loss, regardless of the circumstances, is a difficult thing to contend with, and each of us approach the situation differently. Some of us prefer to completely, wilfully enrobe ourselves in the darkness for a time, then come out of the other side if not necessarily feeling "better", then at least feeling some form of closure and acceptance. Others of us take a more long-term approach, finding ourselves spending a portion of each day in quiet (or not-so-quiet) reflection on our loss, but trying to get on with things. Others still push all that grief and hurt down for as long as possible, then end up exploding in a passionate, emotional outburst once the pressure becomes too much for a mind, heart and soul to bear.

There is no one right way to grieve, and there is no wrong way to grieve, either. But it is easy to find yourself in a situation where you feel like you should be grieving all the time, and by extension end up feeling a curious sort of guilt if you are not actively grieving. To put it another way, one can feel like one is not "allowed" to do anything fun or joyful during a period of grief; it can feel something along the lines of "inappropriate" or "disrespectful" or maybe even "lazy" to not be actively grieving, even if that process is not particularly achieving anything. It can feel wrong to do something that you know will make yourself feel better, because some part of you wants to say that you don't deserve to feel better for one reason or another.

I know I am particularly prone to this. It happens any time I go through a grieving process. I find it very difficult to do regular, everyday things while I am going through such a process; there's a little voice in my head that repeatedly says that I should continue to feel bad about the bad thing that happened, that I should continue to be sad, that I should feel guilt over it, to the exclusion of being able to derive joy from things that, on a less unusual day, would be my go-to way of relaxing and unwinding.

I talked about this with my therapist today, and I already knew the answer, but talking about it made it easier to process. The answer is that you have to actively and explicitly give yourself permission to smile. It might feel difficult to smile, it might feel difficult to find something to smile about, but one sure-fire way of doing your own mental health a serious mischief is refusing yourself the permission to process something that is not miserable altogether. No-one can live in complete darkness in perpetuity; it's why it's a form of torture. And if there's one thing you really shouldn't do, it's torture yourself, particularly if the situation is one for which there is no real sense of culpability, and thus grounds for "punishment".

Thus, while we continue to feel all manner of emotions while we grieve for the uneasy, unknown, unresolved situation in which we find ourselves with Oliver, we must allow ourselves the permission to smile. We must allow ourselves the permission to take care of our own wellbeing. We must allow ourselves the permission to step back from the darkness and take a break to breathe, regroup, refocus and perhaps even reframe how we look at things.

This is, as you might expect, weighing very much on my mind given that we are supposed to be going on holiday on Monday. Without allowing ourselves the permission to relax while we are away, we will never be able to use that time away to rest, recover and recuperate from what has been a very trying time — and, if need be, to continue to face that trying time with renewed strength and fortitude on our return.

And thus I, here and now, give myself permission to smile. It does not mean I love Oliver any less, nor does it mean that I want him to return any less. It means that I am at least attempting to take care of myself, and the people closest to me. It's all I can do at a time where we simply do not know what will happen next.

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The post #oneaday Day 728: Giving yourself permission to smile appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Apparently mostly indoor cats are inclined to head for home after around 5-7 days of being away, and indeed in the various Facebook and Nextdoor groups I've been dropping into over the course of the last few days, there are a lot of reports of cats that just turned up again after roughly this long — a lot more reports in that regard than those that remained missing for longer, or which… I don't even want to say it, even though I know it is a distinct possibility, especially the longer he is absent.

I guess the one thing I can vaguely take heart from is that because Oliver is microchipped (as is the law now, I believe), if he was to be found, we would have heard something. And we have not heard anything, which means that he is still out there somewhere. What state he's in, I have no idea, but he is still out there somewhere. And I just have to try and cling on to that for now.

Every time Patti looks out of the window, I am hoping that I'll just see his cheeky face looking back up at us, as if to say "what?" Every time our cameras report that there is movement outside, I hope that I'll see him sauntering around the corner as if nothing had happened. Every noise I hear outside, I hope I'll see his little golden eyes shining back at me.

I guess we just have to keep looking, keep hoping and keep waiting. Andie's mum is coming down on Saturday to help us keep looking if we haven't already been able to find him (or if he hasn't already found us). She was coming down anyway to look after the cats while we go away, so we are just going to try and enjoy our holiday as best we can under the circumstances, since it is too late for us to cancel and get a refund, otherwise we would have done that. That means someone is here while we are away, and will be able to keep an eye out for him, be here if he suddenly decides or manages to come home, and be able to go pick him up or whatever is needed if someone finds him and calls him in.

My heart is broken and my mood is pitch black. I don't know what to do. No-one prepares you for something like this, because there is no way you can prepare someone for something like this. All I can really do is refuse to give up completely. Our little man must have some street smarts; our little man must be able to find his way home. He must. He must.

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The post #oneaday Day 727: The longest days appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

We were extremely torn when we came across him last night, as the darkness made it difficult to see him clearly, and obviously, looking out, as we are, for a young ginger cat and then suddenly seeing one… well, you want to hope for the best, don't you? Both of us were feeling such desperation to see Oliver again that we were both having serious doubts about whether or not this cat, standing in front of us, was our special little man. Regretfully, we left him to it, as it looked like his home was somewhere near where we were looking — and when I ran into him earlier today, in the daytime, when it was much easier to see, I confirmed that it wasn't him. It didn't stop me involuntarily gasping when I first saw him come around the corner… but that hope was quickly dashed.

All this, of course, doesn't mean that he's not still out there somewhere, but it does mean that our one promising-seeming lead turned out to be unhelpful, and that is immensely demoralising. Andie is near-inconsolable right now, and I'm pretty sure if I stop Doing Things I will get into a similar state. That's why I went out on the trip where I ran into our ginger friend earlier; I can't just sit here and do nothing.

I'm gradually spreading the word online. Turns out there are quite a few places online where you can report missing pets, and not just Facebook. Some of these places want you to pay a bit, but the cost is primarily for them making a social media ad and then "boosting" it on your behalf. Don't worry, I researched all these places thoroughly before giving them any details. Naturally they want to try and reassure you that they have a solid success rate at this sort of thing, but we're both finding it very difficult right now.

Why hasn't he come home? Where has he gone? Is he hurt? Is he — and this is, of course, the one that hurts the most to consider — even still alive? The absolute worst thing about all this is not knowing. The one faint hope I cling to is that there are so many reports of cats that wandered off one evening and came back about 5-7 days later as if nothing had happened. I am hoping beyond hope that this is what will happen with Oliver — though it would be nice if he'd consider doing this a bit sooner.

As I say, the worst thing is not knowing, because it means I don't know how I should be feeling. Should I be hopeful? Should I be worried? Should I be sad? Should I be angry? Should I give up? Or should I keep believing that it'll all work out, somehow.

Unfortunately, bitter life experience has taught me that it does not, in fact, always work out, somehow. And thus, once again, we continue. Because that's all we can do.

I'm sorry this is all I'm talking about at the moment. But this is all I can think about at the moment.

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The post #oneaday Day 726: False hope appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

We've previously posted Oliver's picture and details on some local Facebook pages — the one thing Facebook is actually still vaguely useful for — and earlier today we took around a bunch of flyers to the houses and flats in the nearby vicinity. In the mid-afternoon I got a call from someone down the road; they weren't sure it was Oliver, but they had definitely seen a ginger cat on their back wall recently, and thought that he was "a very friendly chap".

Now, we're trying not to get our hopes up too much, because we know there is another ginger cat in the neighbourhood. The lady who called sounded like she hadn't seen the cat she saw before, however, which leads me to believe that it might, just might have been Oliver. There's also the fact that Andie has apparently encountered "the other ginger cat" and said that it was rather skittish as opposed to friendly; Oliver, meanwhile, has always got along with absolutely everyone he meets, and the personality of the cat our caller described very much sounded like him.

So we have not given up. We cannot give up. I refuse to give up. My heart is battered and bruised and broken from the last few days, and it is difficult to derive any joy from anything. But I cannot give up. I will not give up. He must be out there somewhere, and all we need to do is bring him home.

I do not yet know how we are going to do that, or indeed where he is. But this one little happening today helped me feel just one little spark of hope about the whole situation, and that is something that has been sorely needed since late on Sunday night.

I, of course, do not know how this particular episode of our lives is going to turn out. There is always the possibility that it will end in tragedy, and that is something I don't think I am prepared for. But, as my therapist has said to me on multiple occasions now, I am a survivor, and while I have faced many hardships on life's journey to date, I have made it through all of them so far.

I don't want to have to keep being a survivor, though. I want things to be nice, and happy, and free of worry, and neat. Life, however, is far from neat; simple existence is one of the messiest things imaginable, and I have not yet figured out how — or even if it's possible — to tidy it up.

And so, we continue. For now, we continue, not knowing. Tonight we will walk the streets once again in search of our beloved little man. And tomorrow is another day, whatever that might bring.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 725: A spark of hope appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I became worried when I couldn't find him as quickly as I normally do, and he wasn't responding to me calling him. And thus our only conclusion is that somehow, he managed to escape, quite possibly through one of the windows we had open for ventilation. We obviously don't like to think he'd be dumb enough to fling himself out of an upstairs window, but he is a very curious boy and we have caught him sticking his head out for a look on more than one occasion.

We searched the house, including all the hiding spots we knew of. Our other cat, Patti, very much is a hider, and thus we have a pretty good understanding of the various nooks and crannies a cat can potentially get into in our house. He didn't appear to be in any of them — and he's the sort of cat who, if he got stuck somewhere, I feel would probably make some noise, particularly if we were calling for him and shaking a packet of treats.

We also checked our home security cameras, and saw that he went upstairs at just before 10.30PM. The cameras did not appear to record him coming down again, leading us to believe that he is either upstairs (seemingly unlikely, as our search would suggest) or he went out one of the upstairs windows that a cat could squeeze through with a bit of effort. The cameras could have just missed him, of course, but they're generally pretty good at catching both him and Patti.

So we did what cat owners do in this situation, and we didn't go to bed for a long time, taking a couple of wanders around the neighbourhood in the hope that we might either find him or be able to coax him out. We eventually called it a night at well after 2AM, as we both had to work in the morning and we thought we should probably at least try and get some sleep. (That didn't really happen.)

We got up again about 5AM for another look around — again, no sign of him. Or at 9AM, either. In some ways, this is mildly reassuring; we hadn't found him injured (or worse) anywhere, which leads me to the optimistic conclusion — I have to be optimistic, I have to be — that he's gone and got himself locked in someone's shed, garage, greenhouse or whatever. We've done another few "rounds" throughout the day, reported his microchip number as missing (so if someone turns him in to a vet or cat shelter or something, they can get him back to us) and posted on a few local Facebook groups. Nothing as yet, and we are both despairing.

Oliver is such a precious little boy. He is everything to us. (Apart from the bit of everything that belongs to Patti, who is also everything to us.) I feel sick to my stomach (quite literally; I've barely eaten anything all day) not knowing where he is, whether he's hurt, whether he's scared, whether he's trapped or anything really. As I say, I have to remain optimistic; I have to just tell myself that this is something that sometimes happens when you have cats — I've spoken to a lot of people who have been through this experience today, with some being left not knowing what to think for months — and I cannot, will not give up hope on my precious little boy.

It's just the absolute worst that this has happened during both a stressful time at work, and just before Andie and I are going away on holiday. The last thing we want while we're supposed to be away relaxing is not knowing what has happened to one of our beloved pets — members of our family.

If you happen to be in the Southampton area, particularly around Lordswood, here's a flyer we're going to put through some doors tomorrow. If, by some fortuitous combination of circumstances, you happen to see him, please get in touch.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 724: Our cat is missing appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I think I'm probably going to make a video along these lines sometime soon — although my prior video on the announcement of The400 Mini a while back covers a lot of the points I'd want to cover — but it's on my mind today, so that's what we're talking about today.

One of the reasons I want to talk about Atari 8-bit computers is because I don't feel they get nearly enough respect. No, they were by no means as popular as the Commodore 64 and Spectrum — the former of which is the subject of a cover feature in Retro Gamer magazine this month — but I also feel like they had a significantly stronger foothold in the market than other "failed" micros from the era. Not only that, but they are historically very significant for a number of reasons, some of which I'll try and outline today.

This is going to be a bit of a stream-of-consciousness sort of probably autistic infodump, because I'm just banging this out as I feel like it. If and when I do decide to make a video about all this, there will probably be a bit more structure, research, that sort of thing. Like I say, this was just rattling around in my head today, though, so I wanted to at least get some thoughts down on paper. So here it is.

For the unfamiliar, the Atari 8-bit range consists of several models:

• The Atari 400, which released in 1978, and initially features 8 kilobytes of RAM, though later revisions bumped this up a bit. This was marketed in some areas as a games machine, as it was the cheaper of the two models to release in 1978, had four joystick ports and sported a flat, supposedly spill-proof membrane keyboard to make it suitable for "family" use.
• The Atari 800, which released alongside the 400 in 1978, and was positioned as a more "serious" machine. It had a "normal" keyboard, user-upgradable RAM (up to a maximum of 48 kilobytes) and two cartridge slots instead of one (though there were very few releases that took advantage of this) — and it cost considerably more.
• The Atari 1200XL was the first step in a refresh of the Atari 8-bit line in 1983, intended to replace the 800. It came with 64 kilobytes of RAM, a completely redesigned case, built-in self-test features and a rather nice keyboard. It was also much too expensive and had a number of issues, causing Atari to pull it from sale before long, and to not release it in PAL territories at all.
• The Atari 800XL (pictured above) was a do-over of the 1200XL project. It also had 64 kilobytes of RAM, the newly designed case (now not quite so deep), built-in self-test features and lovely keyboard, but also added built-in BASIC to the mix along with revisions to the operating system. It was Atari's best-selling 8-bit home computer.
• The Atari 600XL was a cost-reduced version of the 800XL, which had an even slimmer case and only 16 kilobytes of RAM. With the 800XL replacing the 800, this was effectively the replacement for the 400, but it did not sell very well compared to its big brother.
• The Atari 130XE was launched in 1985, after Jack Tramiel took over Atari, and was designed to look like a "little brother" to the 16-bit Atari ST. It featured 128 kilobytes of RAM, new revisions of the operating system and BASIC and a new case design, but otherwise didn't bring anything significantly new to the table. It is a nice machine, though, and my Atari 8-bit of choice.
• The Atari 65XE was essentially identical to the 130XE, only with 64 kilobytes of RAM instead of 128.
• The Atari XEGS was a 65XE in a console-style case with a detachable keyboard. It was positioned primarily as a games console, even more explicitly than the 400 back in 1978, but was a fully functional computer that would work with all Atari 8-bit peripherals.

Broadly speaking, these models are all cross-compatible with one another, aside from obvious exceptions such as programs that need a particular amount of RAM to run properly. There are a few compatibility issues between very early pieces of software that were designed for the 400 and 800 and the later XL/XE models, but these can usually be got around by using a "translator" program to temporarily load in an older version of the operating system, and the Atari community at large has also been hard at work patching many games to work universally on all Atari 8-bit systems.

Like most other 8-bit computers, the Atari 8-bit had three means of loading software: ROM cartridge, cassette tape or 5.25" floppy disk. ROM cartridges are incredibly simple: plug them in, turn on the machine and the software is there, ready to go. These were primarily used for games, particularly in the early days of the platform, but there are some pieces of utility or productivity software that run from cartridge, too. Notably, using a cartridge effectively allows the ROM within to "extend" the Atari's capabilities; a good example of this is the SpartaDOS X package, which adds an MS-DOS style command line for manipulating files on floppy disks.

Cassette tapes were certainly used by Atari enthusiasts, but not to the same extent as on the Commodore 64 and ZX Spectrum. The reason for this is that the tape loading system in the Atari 8-bit was significantly slower than on its main rivals, resulting in load times of half an hour or more for games that would take just a few minutes on other platforms. That said, the Atari 8-bit could make innovative use of the tape medium by playing back audio during a program — a good example of this is the Conversational Language series of packages, which teach French, German, Italian and Spanish through interactive lessons, with recorded speech coming straight off the tape and being played back through the TV speakers at the appropriate moments.

Instead, disk drive use was very popular. There were two main disk drives in the prime of the Atari 8-bit's lifespan: the original Atari 810, which followed the design language of the 400 and 800, and the Atari 1050, which was designed to fit in alongside a 600XL or 800XL setup. There was an even later XF551 drive, but this didn't really catch on for various reasons, and these drives are a lot harder to find today.

You connected a tape deck or disk drive to the Atari via its proprietary Serial Input/Output (SIO) port, and this brings us to one of the most historically significant things about the range: SIO was designed as a universal connector for all manner of different peripherals, not just media storage devices. Sound familiar? That's right; it's very much a precursor to modern USB; Joe Decuir, who created this architecture, holds patents on USB.

SIO had a few differences to modern USB, most notably the fact that devices could be daisy-chained together. This means that even though the system only had one SIO port, you could connect multiple devices simply by linking them together. Obviously this was dependent on the device in question having a suitable port — and not every device did — but in theory you could keep on linking as required, making it easy to have, for example, setups that used multiple disk drives, and even cassette and disk simultaneously if you so desired.

Using a disk drive with the Atari 8-bits required one extra step: the use of a Disk Operating System, or DOS. Atari made its own DOS that underwent several revisions over the lifespan of the Atari 8-bit models, and although closed source and distributed under a proprietary license agreement, it could be redistributed. Good job, too, because in order to actually boot something from disk, DOS needed to be loaded first. If you wanted to be able to save BASIC programs to disk, you also needed to boot DOS from disk before starting to write your program.

The most commonly seen versions of Atari's DOS from back in the day used a menu-driven interface that allowed various disk functions such as copying and deleting files as well as locking/protecting them, loading executable files that were not set up to automatically boot when turning the computer on, formatting disks and creating new DOS disks.

Programming on the Atari used, like most of its contemporaries, a dialect of BASIC. Unlike many other BASICs at the time, it is not a version of the popular Microsoft BASIC (although this was available) and thus had a number of its own unique Atari-specific commands. Carrying out many functions, particularly relating to graphics, that would require POKEs on other platforms could be done with dedicated commands on the Atari, but conversely Atari BASIC lacked the ability to create arrays in string variables. It was, on the whole, a well-liked language, and the two main Atari magazines of the era, Page 6 and Atari User (which later merged to become New Atari User), typically printed type-in listings for all manner of programs in every issue. Not just games, either; both magazines were keen to position the Atari computers as capable, multi-function devices that were far more than just sources of entertainment.

Other programming languages were, of course, available. Those keen to get their hands dirty could write programs using 6502 assembler, while as the years went by, speedy languages such as Action! and Turbo BASIC XL came along and offered compelling alternatives to the built-in or cartridge-based BASIC that was, for many, the foundation of programming on the Atari range. These languages could be compiled into executable binaries, too, meaning that an end user would not need a copy of the language to run a program written in it.

The Atari's audio-visual capabilities were very solid. The dual ANTIC and GTIA graphics chips offered hardware scrolling, built-in "player-missile" sprites, and a wealth of different graphics modes allowing various balances between memory usage, resolution and colour depth. The POKEY chip offered four-channel audio with a good amount of customisation — although not quite as flexible as the SID chip found in the Commodore 64. It also handled a lot of the Atari 8-bit's input/output, meaning the system has the charming feature of making blippity bloop sounds when loading and saving from/to disk or tape rather than the horrific screeching heard on other platforms.

And then we come to the games. While some of the high-profile software houses — notably outfits like Ocean, Imagine, Ultimate and suchlike — refused to support the Atari 8-bit, others, like Electronic Arts and Activision, did, at least in the early days, and the budget companies like Mastertronic, Atlantis, Zeppelin and Alternative had a good presence on the platform, too. The end result of this from a 2026 perspective is that the Atari 8-bit library is largely unique, with many titles not being found on any other platforms — and in the case of multiplatform affairs, the Atari release often being a particularly good version. (There are exceptions, of course; the Atari 8-bit versions of Action Biker and The Last V8 are woeful compared to the C64 releases.)

There's also the fact that a lot of games which went on to worldwide success on a variety of platforms often originated on Atari 8-bit. All-time classics like Boulder Dash, M.U.L.E., Miner 2049'er and Spelunker debuted on Atari before spreading to other platforms, and esteemed creators like Archer Maclean were really able to make the system sing with games like Dropzone.

The only thing the library is lacking compared to its more successful 8-bit counterparts is a library of solid arcade conversions from the years following the initial early '80s "golden age"; those early '80s titles are well-covered, however, with excellent versions of Pac-Man, Dig Dug, Pole Position, Qix and plenty more — and a wealth of "unofficial" clones, too.

So why doesn't this system get anywhere near the love and attention that the Commodore 64 and ZX Spectrum do? I honestly don't really know, because although the platform undoubtedly sold considerably less than both of its main rivals, I don't think one can in any respect call it a "failure". Its longest-lasting magazine published its final issue in 1998, for heaven's sake — and said magazine was including material for the Atari 8-bit right up until that very final issue. Not only that, the modern "homebrew" scene is incredibly active and vibrant to this day, with some truly amazing new games being released for the platform on a regular basis, along with some excellent ports of C64 and Spectrum games that never made it to Atari back in the day.

I would love to see the Atari 8-bit get more acknowledgement. There are some YouTubers who do give it its dues — Kim Justice is a good example — but I do wish the field of "gaming history" would, more broadly, pay attention to the Atari 8-bit: a platform that still has a lot to offer, which is a hell of a lot of fun to have been involved with since its original inception, and which is dead easy to explore today with solutions like Altirra for software emulation, and the excellent Atari800 core for MiSTer if you're an FPGA person.

Still, that's a big reason my YouTube channel exists. So I will continue to champion the system how I can — and at least then I know that I have done my part in remembering this wonderful platform and the many amazing journeys it has taken me on over the years.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 723: The Atari 8-bit doesn't get its dues appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I talked a bit about social media with my therapist yesterday. I discussed how conflicted I feel about existing online right now, what with the emphasis on short-form video and vapid content rather than longer-form, more meaningful material. I'm not saying that the stuff I post here isn't vapid nonsense, of course, but I have always said that I would far rather read someone's vapid nonsense than be delivered it as shouty-face-at-camera content, so this blog continues with that in mind. And if no-one is interested in my vapid nonsense, then at least I still have somewhere to bang out some words and express myself, which is what this has always been about.

Anyway, the kind-of-sort-of conclusion I came to was that at least a minimal presence on social media is somewhat desirable for me, because otherwise I just end up feeling completely isolated. While I enjoyed the total break from all social media, including Bluesky, that I took last year while I was on holiday, I found that I didn't want to maintain it afterwards, as it just left me feeling even more lonely than I already was. And I'm already feeling pretty damn lonely.

Still, the other thing that came to light in yesterday's session is that although I have always kind of feared social interactions and find myself overthinking conversations before I have them — sometimes to the extent that I never actually start the conversation in reality for the fear of coming across as boring or annoying — I am, in many respects, feeling kind of ready to challenge myself in at least attempting to make some new friends, to have some people that I can connect with and, basically, to stop feeling so danged lonely.

The challenge that I have found along the way is not so much initiating those interactions when the opportunity arises — although that is still a somewhat scary prospect for me — but rather finding those opportunities in the first place. I cited an example of when I first went to university and attended a pre-term music course, and I took the uncharacteristically bold step (for me) of introducing myself to someone I was in a lift with while we were transporting ourselves to our respective floors in the tower block where we were staying. That resulted in a longstanding friendship (albeit one that I will hold my hands up and say that I have been very poor at maintaining) and was proof that, as little as I think of myself at times, I can come across as someone that people actually do want to know and are not, in fact, actively repulsed by.

Those opportunities of being "trapped" in a lift with a stranger and the choice being either awkward silence or attempting to clunkily start a conversation just don't really seem to arise these days, though, because I'm never in that sort of situation. I work from home, I don't go out a great deal, I'm not a member of any "groups" or anything (and don't really know how one would go about finding a "group") and I do not have a publicly accessible elevator in my house.

What I am going to at least attempt to do a bit more, though, is to attend some in-person events where I know some people with whom I have at least a casual acquaintance will be attending. My trip to The Cave a few weeks back was a good example, and last year I went to the RetroFest show in Swindon — that is actually happening again this year, but I left it a bit late to organise a trip there. I mean, I could probably snag a ticket and go along tomorrow (today's tickets are sold out), but can I be bothered to do that?

Hmm, can I be bothered to do that…? I might have a think about that throughout the course of today. Swindon is a fairly long way to go, but it might actually be nice to go along and see some interesting things and clever people.

Hmmmmm.

Anyway, today we are going food shopping, so that's fun. Thank you for participating in this experiment of whether or not this thing actually posts correctly to Bluesky via the ATmosphere plugin. If it does, I'll likely hook up MoeGamer proper in the same way. Tatty-bye for now then.

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The post #oneaday Day 722: Entering the ATmosphere appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

As such, I ordered myself a YETI Rambler Straw Mug, Stainless Steel Vacuum Insulated Mug with Stronghold Lid, Rescue Red, 42 oz (1.2 l). You will notice that mine is considerably larger than hers. I thought I might as well get a big 'un because the fewer times you have to fill it up, the more likely you are to drink all of it and, by extension, have what is supposedly "enough fluids" for the day — something which a bit of casual research last night (not using AI) suggested there is actually no real scientific or medical consensus on.

£45 felt like a lot to spend on a mug, but then I figured everything is fucking expensive right now, so I might as well buy a nice thing that I'll get some use out of. I went to the shop the other evening to get some drinks and snacks and it somehow came out to more than £70. By those standards, video games seem like quite a bargain right now.

I like the mug! It's big and hefty and satisfying to use, the reusable straw seems to work just fine, and it is indeed nice and convenient to be able to carry around over a litre of drink in a receptacle that keeps it nice and cool. Or indeed to just have it on my desk, to be consumed bit by bit over the course of several hours.

The whole meme about "staying hydrated" honestly annoys me quite a bit, because it seems to be just one of those things that people say without really thinking about it. And yes, it is a meme. Because the population of the Internet is completely incapable of doing anything with any sort of sincerity and seriousness, the whole thing started as a big joke. Sure, over the long term, it may well have got people drinking more fluids throughout the day — and thus can we really call it a bad thing? — but to me, the people who always bang on about "staying hydrated" always come across as performative, like they want to appear superior to everyone else because they drink a bit more water than you do.

I realise it's a bit of a silly thing to get annoyed about — why get annoyed at good advice? — but like I say, it's the whole insincerity of it that grates somewhat. Because some people do just say it, not out of a desire to see their friends be healthy, but just because it's a funny haha meme that they've seen their favourite streamers say. Hell, there's even a bot on Twitch designed to "remind" people to drink water.

I also think it comes across as somewhat infantilising, and that's a real problem that the younger generations in particular appear to be suffering with right now. Just yesterday, some of us were chatting on Discord about an encounter one of us had had where a 21-year old was proving very difficult to deal with because they seemingly wanted to be treated like an incompetent child. (It was to get out of financial obligations.) Any time some streamer tells their audience to "stay hydrated", I get that same energy.

But anyway. There are worse things that people could be saying — and, of course, do elsewhere on the Internet. So I probably shouldn't let myself get too wound up by this sort of thing. After all, since I, too, now have a big-ass sippy cup, I am officially equipped to be smug about Being Hydrated.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 721: Sippy cup appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I could be wrong, of course. It could just be Windows 11 being shit (although in that regard, my work PC also runs Windows 11 and seems fine performance-wise, despite being a meagre mini-PC) and it could also just be my PC being shit (the living room PC, much as I love it, has had a litany of problems over the years that has necessitated multiple reformats and reinstalls) — but for now, I'm taking Chrome out of the equation down here.

I've been putting off doing this, because changing Web browsers feels like a massive pain in the arse. You have your previous one all set up the way you like it with extensions, saved passwords and everything already logged in, and then you switch over and have to set everything up again, log into everything again and it's… man, it just feels like work, y'know, and all I want to do is look something up online.

That said, despite the mental block I've historically felt towards doing this, the process of switching over to Firefox has been mostly painless so far. The export-import procedure seems to have gone fairly smoothly (though it did import duplicates of all my bookmarks which it has apparently previously imported from Chrome) and thus far Firefox has neither crashed nor frozen my entire system for minutes at a time, which is more than I can say for the current state of Chrome.

I even managed to export my passwords from Google Password Manager to Firefox's autofill feature, so logging in to most websites hopefully won't be a huge pain in the arse, aside from those that insist on two-factor authentication and I have, inevitably, left my phone in a location that I am not in.

Firefox isn't perfect, I know, but I do have a modicum of respect for it for allowing you to set a blanket "fuck off with all this AI shit" switch. It unfortunately doesn't prevent Google from serving you up stupid AI Overviews or stop the Internet in general from obsessing over this loathsome technology, but I like being able to ensure the software I am running locally on my computer — at least while it's still possible to do that — is working the way I want it to and not, say, downloading 4GB local LLMs in the background.

Talking about one's Web browser is the height of tedium, I know, but it's been very hot today, I'm very tired and stressed out, and I just wanted to write something before my chicken wings arrive. This was the first thing that came to mind, so that's what you get. Hey, I never promised that every day's posts would be interesting, all right?

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 720: Finally ditching Chrome appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I've already written at length about how the modern concept of "streaks" is inherently unhealthy and encourages people to just game the system rather than actually properly developing good habits, but this is a whole new level of stupid. I was curious as to exactly what a "streak freeze" entailed, so I clicked through on the notification and found the following explanation:

So let me get this straight: WordPress (or Jetpack, I think, specifically) has a "streak" mechanic built in to encourage you to engage with… something every day. (Note that the explanation above counts "liking, commenting or following" as "activity", not just "posting something on your site".) But after 7 days, you can just go "ah, fuck this" for a day and still keep your "streak" intact?

Now, I've hopefully already made my feelings on "streaks" clear (and yes, I know it might seem a tad hypocritical given that I'm posting daily, counting how many days I have done that for and have even done extra posts some days to "catch up" on days I missed but… shut up) but to me the concept of a "streak freeze" just feels like… cheating? And, more to the point, it's a completely pointless form of cheating in which the only person you are actually cheating is yourself. (Yes, I am familiar with the copypasta.)

It's not just me seeing this, right? Given that your "streak" in WordPress or Jetpack or whatever is visible to no-one but you — there are no "Share" buttons on these stupid "achievements" it has apparently started giving you — there is absolutely no point whatsoever in cheating the system for any reason other than to deny to yourself, and no-one else, that you failed to do something as simple as click "Like" on a thing every day for [x] days.

As I say, I acknowledge completely that all of the above might be a bit rich coming from someone who has occasionally missed a day on his "daily" blog and then "caught up" the following day, but I do always acknowledge when I've done that, and I'm not giving myself any "awards" or anything besides counting how many days have elapsed between June 8, 2024 and today. (And yes, I did just use the opportunity to check that my post numbering is correct. It is.)

The way this is implemented as platform "achievements" just feels like they wanted to completely gamify the posting experience, then got cold feet partway through and thought but what about all the people who care about their streak and just don't have time to click Like on something every day?! — as if they were afraid that they would get complaints from people who thought it was "unfair" that they broke their streak just for not… maintaining that streak.

I dunno. I am very aware that this is all a completely pointless thing to get riled up about, but it is very hot, I am very tired and stressed, and just wanted something easy to write about today. So that's what you're getting. Now I'm off to go and swallow an entire iceberg or something. And not the kind that freezes streaks.

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The post #oneaday Day 719: Get out of here with your "streak freeze" appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Naturally, all the usual arguments are taking place over whether or not people from the UK really have a right to complain about it being hot, given that certain parts of the world are far hotter than it gets here, and they get by perfectly well without air conditioning, what happened to that stiff upper lip and all that, eh what? To anyone having thoughts of that nature, I say a hearty fuck off, it is boiling here and we, as a people, are very much Not Built For That.

We are a people built for overcast days, where the weather just sort of exists in the background without doing anything. We don't mind an occasional rainstorm, because that means we can complain about it. But when it gets hot — and for a good few years now, the summers have been getting real hot — it is actively unpleasant, and quite possibly dangerous for some people. One of the people I work with said that the temperature was almost 40 degrees C in his office today. That is not any sort of condition that a human being should even be attempting to exist in!

But still. At least it's a good opportunity to get the ice out, have some cold drinks, enjoy an ice cream or ten and occasionally sit in the garden if you think you can get away with doing so without irradiating yourself beyond repair. Maybe even have a barbecue! Some people in the nearby vicinity have been having barbecues over the past couple of days and they have smelled delicious. We have not, as yet, planned to do one, because neither of us fancy standing over a hot thing on a hot day, and with only a couple of weeks left until we go away on holiday, the opportunities for socialising before we head off are limited. Maybe when we get back.

Anyway, aside from the heat, today has been relatively unremarkable. I have done some work, I have played some Final Fantasy XI, I enjoyed a chicken sandwich with some Sweet Baby Ray's barbecue sauce. The cats have been yelling at us, and all is, it seems, mostly well.

It's just too bloody hot, is what it is!

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The post #oneaday Day 718: Melting appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

For anyone unfamiliar with a Feast, the original incarnation of them was a chocolate ice lolly with crunchy biscuit pieces embedded in the chocolate, and inside the chocolate shell was chocolate ice cream, which surrounded a hard chocolate core. Much like a Cadbury's Creme Egg, I'm sure people had their own ways of eating a Feast, but I always liked to flake the chocolate outer off, then eat the ice cream, then have the hard chocolate core as the grand finale.

Now, though, they have changed. Now you still have the chocolate outer with the crunchy bits embedded, but the chocolate ice cream has been replaced with vanilla, and the hard chocolate core has been replaced with a chocolate hazelnut core that appears to occupy a curious state somewhere between liquid and solid. It sticks to the lolly stick and retains its shape, but it doesn't have the satisfying "snap" that the old hard chocolate core did; it's more chewy and sticky.

Taken on its own terms, the new Feast is not an unpleasant experience to eat. Chocolate, vanilla and hazelnut is a good combination, and they work together. But I'm not sure they should have replaced the basic Feast model with it. The original Feast was a classic, and one of my favourite ice creams, and now it appears that it's just Not A Thing any more, because this "new recipe" has seemingly replaced the old one. At least they haven't had the gall to keep calling it "Feast Original", because, well, it's not original any more.

Apparently there is also a Feast Caramel now, which replaces the new hazelnut core with a caramel sauce centre, and I can see that being pretty good. But, again, I feel like it's not really a Feast as we once new it; the hard chocolate core was a central (no pun intended) part of the Feast's identity, and I'm not entirely sure why it has been taken away, rather than being positioned as a new variant called "Feast Hazelnut" or something. Did we have to lose the classic "Feast Original" for this?

There are, as you might expect, some people online who are absolutely furious about this. I wouldn't put myself in that category, as I found the new Feasts perfectly tasty — they're just not what I expected from a Feast, and it seems strange and confusing that they would make this change now, after so long of them being the same thing.

The common assumption, of course, is that this is an instance of enshittification, but I'm not sure that is the case; perhaps the vanilla ice cream is cheaper than the chocolate ice cream, and perhaps the chocolate hazelnut half-sauce-half-solid otherworldly substance in the middle is cheaper than a hard lump of chocolate, but I have no real way of knowing that. I'm just a bit sad to see something I've enjoyed since childhood feel the need to change fairly drastically for reasons that are not entirely clear.

Oh well. These things happen, I guess. This is, it seems, what a Feast is now. Although apparently Aldi do a good clone of the original Feast, known as Fiesta. Might have to track some of those down…

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The post #oneaday Day 716: They changed Feasts and I'm not sure how I feel about it appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I am tired. Very tired. I'm also worried that we have not-very-long to get a hell of a lot done, but no-one else seems to be panicking about it, so I'm trying not to panic. Trying. I am mostly succeeding, but there are times when I do feel a bit "OH GOD OH SHIT WHAT THE HELL". I can usually get through those times, though.

This is something I was talking about at therapy this week. One of the things that has sort of… emerged in our conversations is the fact that I do have what my therapist describes as a "wise" side, which, at times of great difficulty, anxiety or stress, can usually break through the noise of poor mental health and set me if not completely "right", then certainly on a somewhat more productive path than staring at a wall wishing the entire world would go away for a bit.

It is a challenge, sometimes, to allow that apparently "wise" part of myself to speak, but one thing I am learning to acknowledge about myself is that this part of myself does exist, and that when I do allow it to speak, it usually has something eminently sensible to say. It's not a part of me that admonishes me for making mistakes or doing things inefficiently; it just calmly, gently says to me something along the lines of "look, here are the facts, here is what you can do about it, here is what you probably should do about it" and then, barring a complete breakdown of mental health, I can usually then get on with the thing.

Of course, in the past I have experienced times where that voice can't get through. I have experienced times where things really were bad, and I knew there was no way of really avoiding the "bad". I endured, though, and I like to think my experiences have made me stronger as a result. After all, as much of a state as I consider myself to be in at times, I am still here. I am still going. I am still fighting. I haven't given up.

And oh, there have been times when it would have been easy to give up. At least one of those occasions has been immortalised on this blog, although at the time I sort of danced around the subject in the things I was writing, because I think on some level I was conscious of the fact that although I was having thoughts of giving up on everything at times, I didn't really want to follow through on them in any sort of way that would have had permanent consequences. Hell, I'm doing it now, because part of me doesn't believe that I was ever really willing to give up.

And I guess maybe I wasn't. Because, like I say, I am still here. There are things I would like to change. Things I would like to improve. Things that I wish were different. But I know all of those are things that I can, potentially, do something about. I am not helpless. I am not useless or worthless. There is reason and value to my existence.

That got a tad deeper than I perhaps intended, but it was one of those occasions when the thoughts just sort of started flowing, so I thought I'd run with it. Anyway, I'm off to go and eat ice cream and play some video games now. Have a lovely long weekend, everyone.

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The post #oneaday Day 714: End of a long week appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

The funny thing is, I'm sure we've washed one of those jars in the dishwasher before (Andie likes to keep jars to put things in) and not had this problem. But oh Lordy, this time did we ever have a problem. And I was left to deal with it, as Andie was away on a course or something today.

I thought just running the dishwasher again might help. It did not. So I went out to Sainsbury's with the intention of buying some dishwasher cleaner, not entirely convinced that I had ever seen dishwasher cleaner for sale there, but their website assured me that it was a common thing that was usually in stock, so I took their word for it, hoping that the fact I couldn't actually check stock in a specific store wouldn't mean a wasted journey.

Thankfully, they do indeed sell dishwasher cleaner, so I picked some up, along with one of those hanging stinky things that are a bit like the things you put in your toilet, but for the dishwasher. I ran the dishwasher with the cleaner in it. Better, but still not quite right. I contemplated using the second dishwasher cleaner that had come in the double-pack I had bought, but instead thought I'd try an alternative solution. The Internet recommended putting a glass with vinegar in there, as well as spreading vinegar around inside rather liberally. So I did so, using apple cider vinegar, as that appeared to be the most commonly recommended remedy.

Now the stench has mostly gone. It now smells of dishwasher cleaner, and the hanging stinky thing, and perhaps just slightly of old garlic. It's not an entirely pleasant smell, but it's better than the stench that hit you in the face as soon as you walked in the front door that we had before.

Still, at least I feel like the dishwasher will actually wash things, now, rather than infuse them with that particularly rancid odour. So that's something, I guess.

So lesson learned: 1) do not wash stinky garlic jars in the dishwasher, because you will regret it, and 2) if you failed to take 1) to heart, some combination of dishwasher cleaner, hanging stinky thing and apple cider vinegar might get rid of the worst of the pong. And if it doesn't, I don't know… try pissing in it or something?

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The post #oneaday Day 711: What to do if you inadvertently garlic your dishwasher appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Since I enjoyed making this video — and one of my work colleagues is always referencing my delayed response to the Haunted House-branded sauce — I thought I'd order a selection of the Street Fighter II-themed sauces that the company had put out. This was back in February.

I remembered that the Atari sauces took a while to get to me, but were worth the wait, but this is getting a little ridiculous at this point. Then I happened to see this story shared — the company has apparently been hit with a "winding-up" petition from a client who paid them a substantial amount of money and never got what they ordered… and they weren't the only ones, either. So it looks as if the company may be in trouble, and I probably am not going to get my Street Fighter II hot sauce. This is both a shame, and £45 down the drain that I probably won't get back — but I have sent an enquiry, at least, to see if they'll provide a refund. I'm not holding my breath.

All this is a real shame, because the Atari sauces were really delicious. They covered a wide range of different sauce types, but there wasn't a single one among them that I thought was unpleasant. Some, like the Yars' Revenge hot sauce, I wish I had ordered more bottles of while I had the chance, because that one was really nice, blending the sharp kick of a hot sauce with a pleasantly fruity afterglow. Sauce Shed aren't going under because they were bad at making sauce. It does, however, appear that they may have been bad at business.

I'm not angry at them. Shit happens, particularly in the volatile world in which we live today, and I can't imagine it's easy running a niche business like a hot sauce manufacturer that specialises in custom branding deals. I just wish that they had bothered to communicate, like, at all. Maybe take down the websites that allow you to purchase things if they knew they weren't going to be able to fulfil orders — or at the very least, mark the products as "unavailable" so people don't pay up for them and then end up disappointed.

Because that's what I am, more than anything. Like I say, I'm not mad. £45 is not chump change, but it's whatever — particularly these days, when a trip to Tesco to get a few snacks can easily end up costing more than a brand new video game. I'm mostly just disappointed that I don't get to try a new selection of delicious hot sauces that are tenuously linked to some sort of video game.

But oh well. Another day will come, and there will be more hot sauce. Not just yet, though, it appears.

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The post #oneaday Day 710: Less than hot stuff appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Granted, this is marginally less likely with a Union flag than with a St. George's Cross, the England flag, but it is still something that causes me concern.

Not long after this flagpole was put up, my wife said that when she had been outside, the Union Flag had been replaced with a rainbow Pride flag. Not long after that, the flagpole was relocated to my neighbours' back garden, which leads me to believe that the flying of the Pride flag was not their choice.

Last night, I happened to be out in the garden and I saw there was something else on the new flag besides just the usual Union of crosses. I waited for it to flap around so I could see it, and I made out the words "RESTORE BRITAIN".

My heart sank. Any time people talk about "restoring" a country, it is inevitable that what they actually mean is "get all the non-white people out of here". I thought it was a Reform UK slogan or something, but no, it turns out Restore Britain is its own thing, arguably even more hateful than Reform. I present to you selected highlights from their website, which I am not linking to because I've already had to sully my Internet history with it; I don't want to have to put you through it also:

It took just one paragraph before mentions of "mass immigration", "woke ideology" and "radical Islam". At least one thing you cannot accuse Restore Britain of is subtlety.

Dipping into their "policies" page, it's not long before we get to some Great Replacement Theory nonsense, unsurprisingly. Naturally, these "millions" of "mass immigrants" must be deported.

Ah yes. When I think "basic humanitarian standards", I also immediately think of the word "containment".

None of those woke renewables! Solar energy turned Barry's son transgender, don't you know?!

You knew it was coming.

And this one.

I like that in this one, they're like "yeah, we know this is racist, and we don't care".

Yep, they're anti-vaxxers, too. It's amazing that this one party appears to be ticking absolutely every box for being a fucking awful human being.

But hey! You can kill a burglar, particularly if they're a brown person.

For balance's sake, I will note that they do have a point here, albeit for all the wrong reasons. The Online Safety Act simply doesn't work. These fuckheads think it was introduced to "censor" them "just asking questions" and all that shit. But no. It was just a shit idea.

You can hopefully see now why I feel a little concerned about my next-door neighbours proudly flying a flag for this fucking hateful group of shitheads.

Honestly, at one point I felt a bit bad for stereotyping the guy (and I suspect the flagpole is almost entirely the guy's handiwork) based on the amount he seemingly drank, and how often I hear him yelling obscenities at his wife and kids. But unfortunately it seems like I might have been correct.

So that's fun!

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The post #oneaday Day 707: My neighbours might be racists appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

If you are unfamiliar with this stirring piece of music, here is the original:

The original lyrics run thus:

Beyond majestic mountains
Across the emerald dale
On march the ivory standard
United we prevail

From distant shores of Othard
To lakes of Aldenard
The light of mighty Garlemald
For e'er our guiding star

It continues in similarly "patriotic but built on stolen land" fashion after that. It's a whole thing. What you can hopefully tell from listening to the above, however, is that it's a song with a relatively simple melody line, and fairly simple rhythms. This makes it absolutely ideal for use when you are singing about something stupid and/or disgusting.

Please feel free to replay the above video, while singing the below words to it.

I'm going to take a dump now
I'm going to have a shit
I'm going to shoot poo out my arse
And fill the toilet up

I'm going to take a shit now
I'm going to have a dump
The poo will come right out my bum
And God, it really stinks

I laugh in the face of rhyming schemes. But there's something innately satisfying about having a big ol' dump and bellowing that at the top of your lungs in a deep baritone. I recommend you try it. Even if you have a high voice. I suspect a glass-shattering, vibrato-filled soprano will also fit the bill nicely.

I don't remember exactly when I discovered that The Garlean Territorial Anthem for Gyr Abania and Surrounding States: The Measure of our Reach was ideal for this purpose, but I find it very difficult to stop myself from doing this any time I am in the house by myself. I don't even have to actually be taking a shit to want to sing it. It just sort of comes out. There are other versions of the lyrics, too, mostly relating to bodily functions and/or ablutions, but I will keep those to myself. A girl's got to have a bit of mystery.

Naturally I do not do this when anyone else is present, because I would be absolutely mortified if anyone heard what I was doing and the words I was singing. And not just because I've always been rather self-conscious about my singing voice. I also generally make sure the windows are shut.

In fact, I'm not entirely sure why I'm admitting this right now. I just thought you might find it amusing.

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The post #oneaday Day 706: The Garlean Territorial Anthem goes with everything appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Peep Show, for the unfamiliar, is a Channel 4 comedy show starring David Mitchell and Robert Webb, written by Sam Bain, Jesse Armstrong and Andrew O'Connor, with occasional contributions from Mitchell and Webb themselves. It's the show that put Mitchell and Webb on the comedy map for many people, and is noteworthy for its main gimmick of being shot entirely in "first-person" from the perspective of the various characters, including the occasional ability to hear their thoughts — hence the name. We're getting to "peep" into the most intimate parts of their lives, including their private thoughts, in a way that simply isn't possible in "reality".

From the beginning, Peep Show sets itself up as a show where its two main characters are heavily, heavily flawed. Mitchell's Mark Corrigan character is stuffy, socially anxious, nerdy and, at times, rather arrogant, while Webb's Jeremy Usborne is also arrogant, albeit in a different way, self-obsessed, selfish, unambitious and, at times, borderline deluded about the possible directions his life could go in.

Early in the series, one could argue that Mark is somewhat set up to be the "protagonist" of sorts, since much of the ongoing storylines follow his attempts to woo his work colleague, Sophie. As time goes on, though, the show becomes more generally about how both Mark and Jeremy find themselves on their own separate pathways towards self-destruction, each coming at the concept from a different direction. Mark approaches it from the angle of repeatedly fucking up the genuinely good things that happen in his life, while Jeremy's obsession with drugs, alcohol and sex to the almost complete exclusion of building a "normal" adult life makes his trajectory clear pretty early on.

In many ways, Mark and Jeremy are polar opposites, but they are also a lot more similar than they would care to admit. And, as the show progresses, one comes to realise that perhaps the "El Dude Brothers" perhaps aren't as close friends as they thought they were; indeed, the very last line of the show comes from Mark, looking at Jeremy, reflecting on the many trials and tribulations they have both faced — and inflicted on one another — and thinking "I simply must get rid of him". The implication, of course, is that Mark will never be able to get rid of Jeremy — not because the pair of them are incredibly close friends, but because they're stuck with one another, thanks to each other's most awful tendencies having rubbed off on each other to an exceedingly unhealthy degree.

Thus one could probably say that Peep Show is about toxic masculinity. And indeed there are plenty of examples of that throughout the show, with the main ones being Mark's erstwhile boss, Alan Johnson, who is an obnoxious "alpha male" business leader type — although later shown to have enjoyed success primarily through luck and charisma rather than actual talent — and Jeremy's friend "Super Hans", who in many ways is far more fucked up than Mark or Jeremy will ever be — though at times he does seem to have his shit together a lot more than the pair of them.

Interestingly, though, neither Mark or Jeremy are examples of toxic masculinity in quite the same way. Jeremy likes to talk a big game and make out that he's always getting women, but we see repeatedly throughout the show that he is completely incompetent in developing close interpersonal relationships. Mark, meanwhile, has aspirations for a while of being a big balls businessman like Johnson, but over time comes to accept that he is, at heart, a fairly unremarkable person — and that that is not necessarily a bad thing.

To be sure, the pair of them do engage in behaviour that is plenty toxic, often in the name of pursuing masculinity. But a lot of the time they do this for the sake of living up to a misguided sense of "ideals" rather than because they actually feel that way. Neither of them have a clue how to navigate the challenges that life repeatedly confronts them with, and neither of them really know how to be a stereotypical "man", in terms of the unattainable ideal they both have in their minds. And this leads them both down destructive paths that ultimately bring them both to their own downfall — multiple times.

But Peep Show isn't a bleak tragedy. While I'm sure many people watching the show do feel a bit bad for Mark and Jeremy, particularly by the time the final episode rolls around, the central duo are, at their core, figures to laugh at. The show is a comedy because the situations they keep getting into are so ridiculous, but I think a lot of the humour lands because it's plausible. You can picture people you know going down some of the roads that both Mark and Jeremy fling themselves headlong down. You might even have broken off friendships with similar degrees of toxicity that the pair of them demonstrate.

It's a cautionary tale in many ways, then. Neither Mark or Jeremy are "villains" as such, nor are either of them fundamentally "bad people". But one thing Peep Show demonstrates more than anything else is that it is very easy to find yourself circling the drain if you don't make at least a bit of an effort to get your life under control — and that, as you grow older, if you don't find a good balance between "things that make your life better" and "things that make you feel good in the short term", where those two things are seemingly in conflict with one another, you will almost certainly find yourself bitter, twisted, and if not alone, then certainly stuck with someone who is bad for you, and that you will never, ever be able to get rid of.

A downer ending? Perhaps. But it was perfect for the story the show was telling. It would have been easy to give everyone on the show a "happy" ending for the final episode, but as harsh as it sounds, I'm glad they didn't get it. They got the ending that they deserved — and that has pretty much ensured I will remember the way things concluded a lot more vividly than if everything was all neatly resolved and tied up with a little bow.

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The post #oneaday Day 703: Peepo! appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Coconut and Berry: The Coconut Edition

This is the one I tried today, and the one I was probably most skeptical about, as I'm never sure about coconut flavour things — plus "coconut and berry" sounded like an odd combination.

I was pleasantly surprised that this had quite a nice flavour. The coconut wasn't overpowering and neither was the berry flavour (blueberry, specifically, apparently) — it was a nice balance and an unusual but enjoyable taste. I did find it had that rather cloying mouthfeel that many sugar-free drinks have, though, so it took me quite a while to get through the whole can.

I'm not sure I'll have this one again, but I didn't hate it. A tentative recommendation.

Grapefruit and Blossom: The Lilac Edition

I was also a bit unsure about this one; I generally detest anything that has "floral" notes and have done ever since I had my first unwelcome taste of Rose flavoured Turkish Delight many years ago. As such, I was concerned that this would be more "Blossom" and less "Grapefruit", but thankfully it was the other way around; this was mostly just a nice, refreshing grapefruit flavour drink, with the edge taken off a bit by a pleasantly fragrant finish.

Out of all the ones I've tried, I think this one was my favourite.

Fuji Apple and Ginger: The Apple Edition

There seems to be a sort of half-arsed Japanese theme to some of these "Editions"; there's a "Cherry Sakura" one available in the full-sugar variant, but that doesn't appear to have a sugar-free version. Anyway, I wasn't sure about this one because of the presence of ginger; ginger is something that I like when it's forming part of a compound flavour (like in a nice curry, say) but if I can taste it by itself, I find it a tad "soapy" and unpleasant.

Thankfully, much like the Lilac Edition, the latter of the two ingredients was pushed somewhat to the background, leaving the apple flavour to shine with just a pleasant warmth to finish with. It was a considerably more pleasant taste than I was expecting, and will likely try this one again — my hesitance over the ginger element meant that I only had a sip of my wife's one of these rather than a full can.

White Peach: The Peach Edition

It's peach flavour. Peach flavour is good, if a tad unremarkable. This was decent, but I don't think there's that much reason to pick it over a Peachy Keen or Full Throttle Monster (which I'm convinced are the same flavour anyway). If you're getting it as part of a Meal Deal (and you know you are), you can probably get a bigger can of Monster for the same price.

Iced Vanilla Berry: The Ice Edition

I had no idea what to expect from this one. What I ended up getting was a fairly pleasant fruity drink that had a slight, not-unpleasant lingering nasal presence afterwards. Apparently eucalyptus is involved somewhere. Like the other Editions, though, the more "unusual" flavours aren't overpowering, though, so what you basically have here is a fruity, berry flavoured drink that might clear out your sinuses a bit. I didn't get much of the vanilla at all.

Forest Fruits: The Pink Edition

Probably the "safest" of all the Editions flavours, this was completely unremarkable in almost every way. It tasted like cheap supermarket red squash with a bit of fizz in it. That's not a bad thing, but it's also not worth paying three quid a can for.

What did I miss?

Apparently there are "Blue", "Green", "Ruby" and "Summer" ones out there that I haven't tried yet. Of these, the one I feel I'm least inclined to like is the "Green" one, which promises "Curuba-Elderflower". I don't even know what that is. I also don't anticipate being a big fan of the "Ruby" one, which promises "Spiced Pear". I'm not a huge fan of pear flavour, nor am I fan of spiced fruit, so this doesn't seem like it is particularly designed with my tastes in mind.

The "Summer" one, meanwhile, promises a citrus flavour, which is an evergreen — although also the possibility of being an unremarkable, uninteresting flavour. I'm keen to try that one, though. I'm also intrigued by the "Blue" one, too; I don't know what a "Juneberry" is, but I anticipate that one will taste like blue. You know very well what that means.

Anyway, my conclusions from all this is that they are, of course, extortionate when purchased by themselves, but if you can get them as part of a Meal Deal they're worth taking a punt on if you fancy something a little bit different. I think my favourite is the Lilac one, closely followed by the Apple. I'd probably rank the Coconut one the lowest, though it was still drinkable — and the Peach and Pink ones are just a bit boring. But sometimes you want boring, don't you?

So that's that. I'm off to go play Final Fantasy XI.

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The post #oneaday Day 700: A non-comprehensive, casual review of the sugar-free Red Bull Editions appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Thus far the project is standing at 16,826 words. I anticipate that by the time I finish this — which will be a pretty long time from now — that number will be in the high six digits at the very least. There's a lot of work still to do, but I feel good about this; I feel like this is a worthwhile undertaking, and one that I'm enjoying doing.

It's not something I plan to make any money from; it's not something I plan to plaster ads all over; it's not something I'm doing to "be famous" or anything like that. It's just a project based on something I enjoy that I think will help others to enjoy said thing as much as I do. Plus it's an excuse for me to dive down some thoroughly interesting research rabbit-holes.

Doing this is reminding me that I love writing, particularly about the things I'm passionate about. (Go on then; I'll give you a little hint as to what the project is about: it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, about games.) I love the little journeys that bits of research take you on; I love trying to craft a narrative from those nuggets of information you find; I love trying to get my enthusiasm across in a way that is hopefully enjoyable for the reader to engage with.

I don't know if I'll ever finish this. I would certainly like to, and while I'm feeling the strong Autistic Hyperfixation Energy, I intend to keep taking advantage of it as much as possible. I reached what I consider to be the first major milestone in the project this evening… out of many milestones along the way, yes, but a significant one, nonetheless. It feels like finally cresting a particularly steep hill, so I am going to "reward" myself with some nice relaxing time tomorrow. I haven't played Pragmata for a few days and need to get back on that, but this has been taking priority while I've been feeling very much in the mood for it.

On that note, though, it's after midnight, and I think I should probably get some sleep now.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 694: The joy of hyperfixations appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

The product today is Clearasil's Rapid Action Pads. They look like this:

If the name "Clearasil" is familiar, it's because you probably know them for their numerous varieties of zit-clearance products from over the years. The brand's been around for a long time at this point, and is, I would assume, something of a Trusted Name.

I came to these pads because a few weeks back, I found myself getting a few zits around my mouth, so I thought I should probably do something about them beyond simply attempting to pop them and then doing stifled screams when I was reminded, through bitter experience, that popping zits that are on or near your lips is excruciatingly painful.

My initial intent was to go out and find a product I used to use as a teenager known as "Oxy Duo Pads", but I wasn't convinced that Oxy anything was a thing any more, because the last time I had even thought about these things was more than 30 years ago. As it happens, when I searched for "Oxy Duo Pads" on Amazon, these Clearasil things are the first thing that came up — although a brief Google reveals that Oxy is apparently still a thing if you know where to get them.

Anyway, Oxy Duo Pads were little fabric pads that were a bit rough on one side and a bit smoother on the other side, and they were coated in the sort of stinky chemical that was unmistakably for blasting zits. The theory was that you'd rough up your skin and open the pores with the rough side, allowing all that delicious chemically goodness to seep in (and burn like fuck if you were a bit sore) then smooth things out a bit with the smooth side. In the process, you'd almost certainly realise that your face was a lot more dirty than you thought it was.

These Clearasil pads are essentially the same thing, without the "Duo" part — in other words, they pretty much just have what was the "rough" side from the Oxy product. They still smell unmistakably like some sort of flesh-burning chemical, and they're still pretty danged good at not only getting the filth off one's face, but also discouraging zits from coming back.

However, that's not the reason I want to recommend them. I want to recommend them for an added bonus feature I discovered after just a couple of days of using them.

For most of my life, I've suffered with dry skin, particularly on my face. It's possibly some sort of genetic thing, as my Dad has always had it, too, particularly around his nose. I had resigned myself to it just being sort of there all the time, and having to put up with, in the words of Alan Partridge, "my pillow [being] like a flapjack" when I woke up of a morning.

Two days of using these damn things, and the skin on my face was clear, soft and not peeling or sore even a little bit. Sure, that first day made me feel like I was voluntarily inflicting serious chemical burns on myself, but after the second day, I noticed a difference. And, using them every day since then, I haven't had even a hint of dry or sore skin on my face.

I believe the reason for this is that the Clearasil pads include something called salicylic acid. This is something that I've seen among my wife's numerous skincare products on the bathroom windowsill, but never thought to even ask what it was for. It turns out that it basically strips the top layer off your skin, which is not as horrifying as it sounds. The net effect, it seems, is that the outer layer, which was all dry and crispy and horrible, is removed, leaving soft, fresh, new skin underneath. And I believe you are unlikely to whittle your own face down to the skull while using this stuff, because we all grow new skin on a pretty regular basis. Also it's apparently vaguely related to aspirin, and taking it orally is inadvisable. Thanks, Wikipedia.

Anyway, if you, like me, have ever suffered with a face that seems to want to come off at the most inconvenient times, it seems the answer is to regularly douse it in a form of acid that, in itself, will also cause your face to come off, but in a more useful and less messy way than when your face wants to do it itself.

I guess I have a "skincare routine" now, such as it is.

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The post #oneaday Day 692: Another hyper-specific product recommendation appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I'm still not going to tell you what it is, because my aim for it is to finish it before unleashing it on the world, rather than doing it piecemeal. My reasoning for this is that… well, I have prior experience. At one point a while back, I started doing a website whose long-term intention was to go through every cartridge available for the Philips G7000 "Videopac" computer and write something about all of them. I stalled on that project for various reasons, and at some point a WordPress update broke my layout on the page and I haven't been able to summon up the mental fortitude to go and fix it. As such, it's just sort of sitting there in a broken, unfinished state, and will likely continue to do so.

My thinking is that if I work on this thing a bit at a time, trying to knock off a little bit of it every day, I'll have something impressive to show off when it's complete. (Once it's "complete", it will continue to evolve by virtue of what it is, but there will definitely be a moment when it reaches "version 1.0" status and I am happy to reveal it.) Conversely, if I were to launch what I've done now, people might just go "huh, cool", realise there's not all that much to it yet and then never think about it ever again.

So that's my plan. And I've made a good dent in starting this whole project over the course of the last few days. Starting these things is always one of the toughest bits, because you keep thinking of little bits and pieces you might want to do to refine the experience — and if these revelations come too late, it can be a bit of a faff to implement them. Thankfully, I'm happy with the situation I've got things into now, and I can now focus on the real meat of the overall project.

Make no mistake, though, this project is going to be a lot of work. There is somewhere in the region of 800 "little jobs" to do in the name of putting the whole thing together, and so far I have completed (counts) nine. Still, every journey begins with a single step and all that, and now I've got started, I feel like I can bang out a bit of this whole thing each day until it is all done. And it is something that I think will feel good when it is finished.

I apologise for being vague about all this, but hopefully you understand my reasoning for it. I want the grand unveiling of this thing, whenever that might end up being at some indefinite point in the future, to be a worthwhile and meaningful event for those it is relevant to. And I feel like teasing it too early will be counterproductive to that. So this is the approach I'm taking. And this probably won't be the last time I mention it in such vague terms. But you'll see… eventually. Hopefully, anyway.

On that note, I'm off to take a break from this self-inflicted "work" and enjoy the rest of my birthday before I have to go back to work tomorrow.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 691: It is my birthday appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I used to read The Beano pretty much every week. I had Beano annuals most years for Christmas, and when I was lucky, I'd get a Bash Street Kids or Dennis the Menace annual to go along with it. My parents used to read The Beano when they were kids, too; they have some pretty old Beano annuals knocking around somewhere, and probably (hopefully?) still all my old ones, too.

I liked The Beano because it was straightforwardly funny, and it was something that I could share my amusement about with my family. We all particularly enjoyed Calamity James, a comic strip about an unlucky boy that always featured an absurd amount of background detail that was often more hilarious than the actual happenings in the strip — plus at least one smelly sock in every single full-page strip.

I wasn't sure what to expect from a copy of The Beano in 2026. Would it be filled with impenetrable Young Person Slang? I wasn't sure it would be, as although it was kid-friendly when I was young, I don't remember it being too tryhard about trying to "sound like" us. The thing I was most expecting was that it would be childish humour that I simply wouldn't find funny — but then I remembered that I still find burps and farts hilarious, and felt that even if it was childish, it would probably be about my level.

So I dove in while enjoying a sandwich. And I enjoyed it! It even elicited some genuine out-loud laughs on multiple occasions. There are, as you might expect, quite a lot of changes that have happened in the intervening 30+ years, but a lot of things have stayed the same, too. So let's look at a few highlights.

Dennis the Menace is still the cover star, though his strip no longer adorns the front and back covers — there's a more conventional "magazine-style" cover on the front now, though there's still a strip on the back for the "Make Me A Menace" feature, where readers can send a photo of themselves in and be featured in a comic strip.

I highlighted these first frames because I thought they were a good visual gag. The strip, which ran for four pages in total — so much longer than in his cover-mounted days — told the story of how Dennis refused to cut his hair until Beanotown United won three games in a row, and this caused his hair to grow so long that it became sentient and started eating people. Thoroughly silly, and exactly the sort of thing I would have expected to see in The Beano back in the day.

Calamity James is, unfortunately, a shadow of its former self. It's clearly done by a different artist now, and it's only a three-panel strip alongside fellow Beano veteran Billy Whizz and newcomer Addams Family wannabes Number 13. All the wonderful background detail and silly visual gags are gone — no more smelly sock! — but I'm pleased they kept James looking like a slightly deranged pencil. The gag is, I have to admit, mildly funny, too, though it does rely on an awareness of stupid modern trends like "6-7" and thus would probably be impenetrable to my parents at this point.

One of the biggest changes since I read The Beano as a kid is the addition of quite a few non-white characters, including some who have their own strip, such as in Har Har's Joke Shop here. Doubtless this made the "anti-woke" people furious at some point in the past, but it's a sensible change for the comic to make, as it reflects the multicultural nature of our society while at the same time highlighting how people having differently coloured skin doesn't mean they suddenly become completely alien types of person; the non-white characters in The Beano fit right in with all the usual mayhem without being picked out as being something "unusual" — which is a good message to send to kids.

This idea continues with the changes to The Bash Street Kids. While all the old cast are there, a couple have had name changes in the name of sensitivity — Spotty is now Scotty, and Fatty is now Freddy, though Plug (as in "plug-ugly") is still as he was. New additions to the crew include Cuthbert (the chief "softy" from older Dennis the Menace cartoons, though I wonder if he's been retired from that role in the name of not promoting bullying) along with Harsha from Har Har's Joke Shop and apparent newcomers Mahira, Stevie and Khadija, all non-white characters of various descriptions.

This was a good gag. I'm pleased to see The Beano come down on the anti-AI side of things. I find that oddly reassuring.

Elsewhere, the comic is apparently in the process of serialising Bananaman's origin story. I was just explaining to some baffled Americans about Bananaman the other day, and it turns out he's still relevant, apparently. I would never have expected that.

Perhaps most reassuring of all, though, is The Beano's willingness to include a full-on fart gag. Oddly enough, despite being plenty mischievous back in the day, I don't recall ever seeing Beano characters burping and farting, except perhaps sometimes in the background of Calamity James strips. This little beauty from newcomer Rubi's Screwtop Science, featuring a lead character in a wheelchair, gave me a good giggle, though…

…as did the fact the comic apparently April Fooled people by suggesting you could scratch and sniff Minnie the Minx farting in a prior issue. I love this because I feel like there's a whole bunch of layers to this gag, some of which only the grown-ups will get. I'll leave them to your imagination.

All in all, I enjoyed my first look at The Beano in more than thirty years. It's nice to see how inclusive it's become, though like I say, I suspect there are certain Daily Mail-reading portions of the population who believe it's an outrage that there's a character wearing a hijab in The Bash Street Kids. Thankfully I have never run into them, and I hope I never do.

It's most reassuring to see how funny it still is, though, even as an almost-45 year old man. (45 tomorrow!) Will I keep buying The Beano? I don't know. I actually wouldn't be averse to the idea. So let's maybe have a think about that…

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 690: I bought The Beano for the first time in more than 30 years appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Anyway, it's also my birthday in a few days time, and Andie couldn't think of what to buy me as a present, so she paid for us to have a night in a nice hotel ahead of our Cave visit, rather than having to drive there early in the morning. It's about two hours' drive from us, so getting there for an 11am start would have meant getting up much earlier than we normally do on a weekend. Yes, we are still teenagers in that regard.

The hotel is nice. It's a four-star hotel, so it evidently was pretty swanky in its prime; today, it could do with a lick of paint and some repairs here and there, but it's not in bad condition. The facilities are nice — there's a great pool and spa area that we spent a bit of time in this afternoon — and the food at the restaurant we had for dinner was really tasty. Moderately pricy, but not unreasonably so, particularly considering we had three courses.

I'm looking forward to visiting The Cave again. My visit a couple of years back is a fond memory, and the place has had more work done since then, plus some new additions to the collection. h0ffman's talk should be interesting, and it will be nice to show my wife and a friend of ours what it's all about.

Anyway, I'm typing this on my phone because I didn't have the foresight to bring a keyboard with me, so I'm going to leave that there. It's after midnight anyway, so we had better sleep. I will try and remember to take some photos tomorrow!

The post #oneaday Day 687: Minibreak appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

With that in mind, I'm probably going to have an early night tonight. I'd like to get back into Pragmata, which I'm enjoying a lot, but I'm also not sure my brain is up to playing anything too complex this evening. Perhaps this would be a good evening to do a bit of retro gaming, with an emphasis on something that isn't too challenging or complex to deal with.

I actually have the next two Evercade cartridges that haven't been released yet, which I'm kind of dying to talk about but can't because although I have them in my hands, we haven't even announced them yet. That will be happening soon, however, and when it does I will have plenty to enthuse about, believe me. They're not the biggest releases of the year, by any means, but they are some of my favourites.

No; I'm thinking this evening might be a good opportunity to settle down with something comfortably familiar, but which I perhaps haven't played for a while. I'm hoping in the process of typing this, something will come to mind that feels like it might be fun to spend my evening playing. Maybe Starwing? I haven't played that for a while. Last time I tried it, the MiSTer SNES core was having issues with the SuperFX chip, but I believe that's been resolved at this point, so that might be a good shout. I do love a bit of Starwing, and it is actually quite a long time since I've played it.

I'm going to get back into doing some videos soon, for those who have been wondering why it's been all quiet on that front for a while. I just haven't really felt an urge to do that for a little while, and forcing yourself to do something you're not really feeling is a sure-fire way to get yourself feeling burnt out. I won't have time to do any this coming weekend, as we're taking a trip to The Cave, but I have a few days off for my birthday at the start of next week, so I might take a day or two to record a few things over that period. Exactly what, I have no idea just yet; I have a few things in mind that I might like to explore, but haven't decided firmly on when or how to tackle them. This upcoming bit of free time might be the ideal opportunity to jump into them.

Anyway, I think I might have made a decision on what to do with my evening — although at the rate I'm going, I may well be asleep before I've got anywhere. If that's the way it goes, though, that's the way it goes!

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 685: Very tired appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Today, though, I had I think the worst meal I've ever had from them, and possibly from any service station fast food place. I did not end up with the shits — at least I don't think so; I did have a large dump when I got in, but that is usually the case after the long drive home from work.

Anyway, I saw that they were doing "Sweet habanero tenders", and thought they sounded nice. The picture looked nice, too — some rather Wingstop-esque tenders drizzled with what would presumably be a sweet, hot sauce. Andie and I are big fans of Wingstop, and their mango habanero sauce is one of my favourite things to have on their chicken, even if it gives me hiccups every time, without fail.

I got my food and was surprised to discover that the tenders were just stuffed into a bag and not drizzled with any sort of sauce, but I thought "oh well, the coating is probably nice by itself".

What then followed is, I think, the driest meal I have ever eaten. I made the mistake of also accompanying the tenders with some nachos rather than fries, and as such the experience as a whole was remarkably akin to eating a bag of lightly seasoned sand. The only mildly redeeming part of the meal was the glazed churros for dessert; they both tasted good and brought some much-needed "wet" to proceedings with their sauce.

On the whole, though, I cannot, in any way, recommend the sweet habanero tenders at Taco Bell, particularly at South Mimms Services at the A1/M25 junction. I normally look forward to grabbing a bit of a treat on the drive home from my monthly office visit, but this time it seems I made a terrible mistake. I won't let that happen again!

At least the food I had last night was good. When I met up with my friend, we got food from the hotel I was staying at — and said hotel does pretty good food. I fancied something a bit different from the norm, so had a Hungarian Goulash, and it was delicious. A rich, flavourful, creamy sauce, well-cooked meat, fluffy potatoes and some nice squishy dumpling-like things that were apparently made from egg noodles, of all things. It was accompanied by some nice bread and served up in a little cauldron over a candle for you to ladle into the main bowl. Absolutely lovely stuff — and it basically cost the same as the shitty Taco Bell meal I had this evening on the way home.

This was followed by a lovely chocolate brownie accompanied with some decent ice cream, and all delivered with some excellent service from a waitress that my friend was rather taken with. A thoroughly agreeable evening, gastronomically speaking. And socially speaking, for that matter, as yesterday's post hopefully made clear.

Well, lesson learned. Perhaps I should just have dinner at the hotel before starting the long drive home!

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 684: Taco Bell regrets appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

"It's so cool that literally every job now is understaffed by 30-50%. It's great because I didn't want whatever it was done well or with any care at all. But please keep raising prices anyway."

– @headfallsoff.com, via Bluesky

I saw this post earlier and it resonated. I'm sure that right now, wherever you are in the world, you are feeling some variation of this thought. You are probably also feeling as bewildered as I am at why this is all the case. Yes, the economy is fucked due to the AI bubble, private equity dominating everything and the stock market continually doing weird things (a shoe company "pivoted to AI" recently and their stock value exploded!), but surely some things are constant. Like, say, the need for groceries.

Our local big Sainsbury's is a prime example. It's a decently sized supermarket that serves a wide area in the town; it's conveniently located, as it's somewhat on the outskirts of the general urban area, and it's also near a number of local amenities, such as a doctor's surgery and bingo hall. It does plenty of business, as the car park is always pretty full and there are always people in it.

So why have I only ever seen one person actually on the checkouts at a time? There are like five or six conventional checkout lanes (plus a large self-checkout area for trolleys, and another separate large self-checkout area for baskets, inevitably with at least one person using a trolley in it) and there only ever seem to be about three people on hand at any time: one person begrudgingly staffing the conventional checkout, and two people milling around the self-checkout areas, occasionally noticing that yes, you are, in fact, old enough to purchase a can of Monster and gracing you with their woefully insecure three-digit user ID and password combo to confirm this fact in the eyes of the law.

"Just use the self-checkouts," you'll probably say. And that's sometimes fine. Except when you run into the inevitable Unexpected Item in Bagging Area incidents, or the aforementioned need to prove your legal worthiness to consume drinks that don't taste like anything Nature has ever produced, or you're buying a shirt with a security tag on it, or you're buying alcohol, or you have two packets of paracetamol in your basket, or… you get the idea.

A good example from my own experience is a rather middle-class problem, but it shows how these checkouts being inexplicably left fallow can be a genuine issue if you need to speak to an actual person in order to achieve something during your shopping trip. We have a SodaStream, and SodaStream does a thing where if you return your old gas cylinder at the same time as getting a new one, you get ten quid off the new one. It's worth doing, as it means you don't have to worry about disposing of bulky gas cylinders, and it's cheaper. Yet, as far as I'm aware, there is no means of carrying out this process yourself at the self-checkouts, meaning you need to go to a staffed checkout. If there's only one person working the staffed checkouts at any given time, this can mean you'll be in for a long wait. If you go in at the wrong time of day, when there are no people on the staffed checkouts, then you're fucked.

Like I say, it's a very middle-class example. But I'm sure there are other instances where you need (or just prefer) to interact with an actual human being, and there are times of day where that's literally impossible at this Sainsbury's. Why do they even have that many checkout aisles if they're never, ever going to use all of them?

Is it because they don't have the money to pay enough staff to man those checkouts? I doubt it, particularly since prices are through the roof. I can pop to the shop to get a few snacky bits and household bits and pieces — i.e. not a "big shop" — and easily spend £50 these days. That's more expensive than a video game! (For now, anyway.) I feel like if you spend more than it costs to get a new PlayStation game, you should come away with more than a few bags of crisps, bottles of drink and packets of cat food.

To be clear, I don't blame any of the workers staffing either the conventional checkouts or the self-checkout aisles for this. It is not their fault, and they probably wish they had more people helping out, too. It is, almost certainly, a failing of management, presumably initiated on the grounds that they want to "do more with less" or some other such LinkedIn platitude at their corporate overlords' behest. In that sense, it's probably not even the managers' fault, but instead, as with everything else, the blame can, without a doubt, be laid at the feet of the out-of-touch executive class and/or private equity.

One day we'll be free of all this. I don't know that. But I have to believe it. Because things don't seem to be getting a whole lot better right now, and the prospect of continuing to endure the world being such a shitty place is becoming increasingly intolerable.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 677: Understaffed and overpriced appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I was dismayed to discover upon starting my rewatch that Peep Show is over twenty fucking years old. I don't know why, given that I remember having DVDs of it just after my time at university, but I've always thought of it as a relatively "recent" show. But no! It's a show that pre-dates smartphones and flatscreen TVs and monitors; it's a show that is old enough to come with one of those "this show was made in 2003 and is not representative of today's values" disclaimers that you normally see on shit from the 1920s.

The source of this particular warning is a scene early in the second series that is essentially blackface. I say "essentially" because the scene in question is actually criticising blackface, particularly in the context of using it as something to be deliberately provocative — or even a fetish — but it still involves Robert Webb with his skin painted a darker colour and thus I appreciate that to some, it may be hard to defend.

I do find the whole "today's values" thing mildly interesting, and occasionally annoying. I find it especially grating when people start talking about how a piece of dialogue is "problematic", when the dialogue in question is supposed to be depicting a character that is a piece of shit. There's a certain subset of people, many of whom have grown up with what passes for cultural critique on asinine platforms like TikTok, who have a very black-and-white (no pun intended, given the above) view of morality in fiction. These people tend to find it especially "problematic" — a word I've always hated, if that wasn't already clear — when "villains" of the piece act in a villainous manner. Who would have thought it?

I mean, sure. You probably can get across the fact that a person is a piece of shit without resorting to actions and utterances that are offensive by modern standards. But at the same time, I do feel writers should be able to depict characters who are offensive in some way or another — otherwise your critique of them and their actions lacks a bit of bite. It's like all the people on YouTube who bleep out any time they say words like "sex" or "death". It's a bit too much, y'know?

Obviously I'm not advocating for black-and-white minstrel shows and racial slurs 24/7, but I feel like there comes a point where you can wrap modern audiences in cotton wool just a little too much, and the result is an entire cohort of people who cannot cope with being challenged by fiction even a little bit. We already see this on "BookTok" (ugh). Don't even get me started on those idiots.

I guess, thinking rationally, the solution Channel 4 took with this Peep Show episode is probably as good as one can expect right now; the episode itself is untouched, it just has a warning before you watch it. And, as far as I'm aware, that hasn't caused any particular scandals around the place online. So perhaps we should just keep quiet, acknowledge these when they exist and just get on with things. Because the alternative is a dark place for the creative arts, as we're already starting to get a hint of in some places.

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The post #oneaday Day 674: A product of its time appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Since the weather has turned nice, I've gone out for a couple of walks. I had a short walk on the common the other day, and this morning after breakfast, I decided to just leave my house, set off in whatever direction I felt like, and just keep walking. I ended up having a very lovely walk of approximately 5 kilometres, burning a nice number of calories due having to haul my disgusting fat carcass around with me wherever I go, and coming home feeling rather satisfied with myself.

What I discovered along the way is that on the outward journey, when I didn't have a particular destination in mind, I felt like I could pretty much go forever. I kept walking and walking and walking until I had got quite a distance away from my house. And I was enjoying it; I found some nice little scenic areas, even, which you will see photographs of punctuating this blog post. It's always nice when you find pleasant green areas within a reasonably sized and generally quite busy city.

The moment I felt like I was "on the way back", though, things became several orders of magnitude more difficult. It's weird! It was like a switch flipped in my mind, a big countdown appeared (figuratively speaking), and I was aware of quite how far I still had left to go before I could call proceedings to a halt. I had to take several breaks on this "return leg" of the journey, because I kept getting to points where I felt like I wanted to get home, but also where I wasn't sure I had the energy to make it all the way back without stopping.

Okay, it doesn't help that we live on top of a hill, and thus whichever direction I set out from when I go for a walk, I always have to end my journey by climbing a hill that might not look that steep, but which is always absolutely exhausting to walk up. Well, it is if you're a fat shit like me, anyway.

Still, I feel like if I had just kept walking "outwards", I could have probably made it even further afield. Could I have made it into the town centre? I don't know — maybe. I wasn't far off making it to one of the local shopping areas. And if I had made it there, I could have always stopped for a coffee and then even got the bus back home if I had really wanted to.

Perhaps that's the answer. Just walk and walk and walk outwards, then for the return journey catch the bus. Is that cheating? I don't think it is, is it? Not if you are able to make the outward journey significantly longer as a result of knowing that you're not going to have to walk back again.

Maybe I'll try that next time out. I just need to familiarise myself with the bus routes around the area, I guess!

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The post #oneaday Day 673: Journey, not destination appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Russell was a member of the university theatre group. I forget exactly which production he was involved with — it was possibly the chaotic production of Twelfth Night I was left directing (with zero experience) after my co-director decided to fuck off on a skiing holiday for two weeks during the main bulk of our rehearsals ahead of the production coming together. It doesn't really matter.

Russell was — and I'm aware writing it like this makes it sound like an obituary, but I honestly have no idea what happened to him — one of those people who could make people laugh completely effortlessly. Everything that came out of his mouth was hilarious. And it wasn't in an overblown "I'm going to spout one-liners" or "I'm going to quote Blackadder endlessly" way — he was just a naturally funny person. He would have a quip for every occasion, a comment for everything, and he was always a shining beacon of fun in any room he was present in.

My enduring memory of Russell is at an aftershow party for the production in question. We had all been drinking a fair bit ever since the curtain had come down on the final performance of the show's run, and we'd bundled around someone's house, as was tradition. This person had one of those weird chairs that was like a big circular bamboo frame with some cushions splayed over it. Russell immediately made a beeline for it, assuming it was the most comfortable chair in the room — but it was not.

"Oh," he said. "Oh."

"What's wrong?" we asked.

"I appear to have sat in a very disappointing chair," he said. We laughed. He did not get up. From thereon, the chair in question was known as the Chair of Eternal Disappointment, and Russell's initial opinion of it was backed up by anyone who managed to sneak into it while he went to go and refill his drink. He usually found it unoccupied on his return, as I can confirm, it was an exceedingly disappointing chair.

I never saw Russell again after that particular production, and I don't think any of the rest of Theatre Group did, either. We often commented on that one particularly memorable night, and the Chair of Eternal Disappointment remained a running joke among any of us.

I wonder what Russell is up to now. I wonder if his own chairs are to his satisfaction. And I sincerely hope that wherever he is and whatever he's doing, he's still making people laugh and smile by virtue of his very presence.

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The post #oneaday Day 668: Russell's Chair of Eternal Disappointment appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

We're having a day off the diet today to celebrate the return of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus H. Christ, then back on it properly tomorrow. Technically speaking we also had yesterday off due to HeroQuest being accompanied by party food, Pringles and some dangerously addictive little cake bite things from Tesco. But yes. Tomorrow it is back to counting the calories and doing things properly, because it seems to have been working for the both of us.

I've not done much of note over the last couple of days, as I was in need of just a break from everything. It's been a really hectic, chaotic time at work of late, and being able to just step away for a bit is exactly what I needed. The end result of all this chaos is going to be well worth it; it's just been a lot of stress getting to the point we're at so far, and I suspect there's more still to come. But we're ready for it and we're going to kick it's ass.

We had all our windows and exterior doors replaced this week. We've got a new front door that is much sturdier than the old one (the entire front fascia would bend and flex when you used the old one!) and patio doors that open like doors instead of slidey doors. Andie's also finally finished the catio to add a little tunnel from the cat flap in the back of the house into the catio proper, so once the cats figure out that the cat flap is there (which I suspect will take a little while) they will be able to go outside when they please without having to get us to open the doors for them. I suspect they will still ask us to open the doors, but it will be nice for them to be able to go outside on their own initiative.

Anyway, we're currently awaiting our 7bone burger for our Easter dinner treat. Then I might give Resident Evil 7 a go in VR after dinner… I am totally brave enough, yes I am.

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The post #oneaday Day 667: Happy Easter appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

This is not necessarily a good way of thinking about things, of course. Obsessing over whether what you're doing is "worthwhile" can lead to grindset nonsense, and those people are soundly mocked by well-adjusted individuals with good reason. But all the same, I do, at times, feel myself wanting to… I don't know, it's hard to even express. Achieve something, I guess?

I've had this conversation with myself before. I do achieve things in my daily life and with my day job. My contributions to my workplace are a critical part of the entire process of bringing actual physical, tangible products that are worth money to market. Shouldn't that be enough? Isn't that enough of a "legacy" to leave behind?

Well, perhaps. But I'm sure many of us have had grander plans in the past. Plans to write a book, make a game, compose an album of music, all those sorts of things. And, as we get older, it becomes easier and easier to tell ourselves that we "don't have time" to do those things — when, in fact, many of us probably have pretty much the same amount of free time as we did when we were younger.

I think with me, a significant part of it is loneliness. When I was younger, I would fill many of my days spending time with friends and enjoying the things I loved together with them. I can still sort of do that via the Internet, but enthusing about something over a chat application is a very different feeling from having them in the same room with you, reacting in real time to the things that are happening, discussing things as they happen and, you know, laughing and having fun with one another.

I guess I'm a bit sore because it's coming up on my birthday, and for several years I hosted an event with friends around that time where we got together, ate food, enjoyed drinks and played games together as a fun little competition. Last year the response I got to such an event was rather rude, and it upset me a great deal, following a few other things that had frustrated me in past years (including one occasion where I bought a prize for the event and ended up with it returned to me), and I've not heard a peep out of the people involved for nearly a year at this point, so I guess that's that.

Still, at least I have a game of HeroQuest to look forward to tomorrow, and a trip to The Cave towards the end of the month (around my actual birthday date!) so I guess I shouldn't complain too much. Now I think I'll go see if I can finish off Resident Evil 6, and stop worrying about whether or not I've spent the bank holiday "correctly".

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The post #oneaday Day 665: Restlessness appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Today, this notice appeared in the New York Times on a book review it had published:

This, to me, is unforgivable. Supposedly there are plenty of writers out there who are doing this — or something like it, anyway — but to me, it is unfathomably awful. To be a writer, someone who cares about one's craft, you have to give a shit. And absolutely nothing says "I don't give a shit" quite like relying on generative AI so heavily that your article has to be pulled because its plagiarism was too obvious.

I mean, when you think about it, it's obvious that this would happen, given the way generative AI works and is trained — if it's pulling all its wording from existing texts that it has absorbed (without any compensation for the original authors) from around the Web, then of course it's going to come up with some of the same things, perhaps even the exact same phrasing.

You'd think it would be obvious, anyway — and that any writer worth their salt would not, as a result, rely on it — but apparently this is not the case. Much how the above-linked Wired article should really result in all the authors named being blacklisted from every freelance writing pool, effective immediately, this incident should be the end of Alex Preston's career. There should be no second chances. To quote the old Batman meme, this is the weapon of the enemy; we do not need it; we will not use it.

Believe me, at this point I've heard every pro-AI argument there is — some, like the nonsensical "back in the '90s some people thought the Internet would be a bad thing!!" one, more than others — and none of them stand up to the slightest bit of scrutiny. AI does not make you a better writer. AI does not make you a writer. The only thing that makes you a writer is, quite simply, writing. And if you are not sitting down and writing something for yourself — whether that be through putting pen to paper, tapping away at a keyboard or dictating your words verbally — you are not a writer. And no, "writing" your prompt to get the bot to churn out a thousand words for you does not count.

Humanity's written languages have survived for thousands of years — albeit with plenty of evolution — through people being taught how to use them. It is, today, a fundamental part of your early socialisation process to learn how to read and write; yes, some folks have specific learning needs that make it harder or even impossible for them to do so, but even for them, generative AI is emphatically not the answer, as we have plenty of assistive methodology and technology that can allow these people to thrive that does not rely on the odious fad that is presently bleeding the planet dry.

So I'm sorry, I have no patience left whatsoever for any incidents like this. The people involved in the Wired and New York Times articles above deserve to be kicked out of their career. Because if they have no respect for writing as a craft, why on Earth should any readers be expected to have any respect whatsoever for the shit they've churned out through the bots?

There are myriad people out there who would chew off their own arm for an opportunity to have a byline beneath a prestigious masthead — and every one of them who relies entirely on their own writing abilities, rather than outsourcing their creative process to the planet-burning chatbot, deserves those opportunities a million times more than those who clearly have no respect for themselves, their peers, or their readership.

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The post #oneaday Day 661: When people would gnaw off an arm for a freelance writing gig, using generative AI is unforgivable appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

If you're not familiar with Rosie's work, however, I thought I'd take today to highlight some of the great things he's been doing, because he's a hardworking lad who makes consistently entertaining YouTube videos on a variety of subjects. He shot to (relative) stardom when he decided to cover the questionable classic UK TV show GamesMaster, and, having previously been a channel primarily about old games (and longstanding GamesMaster rival-though-not-actually-that-similar show Bad Influence!), he decided to lean into what had brought him some success, and cover old TV instead.

GamesMaster is still a recurring feature — his most recent video covers the legendary "Dave Perry Super Mario 64 Incident" — but he also looks at old kids' TV shows, too, and offers commentary that is both hilarious and insightful, and without dropping into either dry, boring quasi-academia or just straightforward summaries of the shows accompanied by occasional "oh my God, you guys, I can't believe they did that" reactions.

Anyway, here's some of my favourite videos from him. I recommend subscribing to his channel and giving them all a watch — many of them are on the long side by the very nature of covering entire series at once, but he punctuates these with short videos about fluff like Rainbow and Rosie and Jim if you want something a bit shorter.

Here's the aforementioned video about GamesMaster and The Dave Perry Incident. It's worth watching the prior videos in the run-up to this, as it's interesting to revisit the show and contemplate how it evolved (and not always for the better) from series to series, but this one, which many of the newer members of Rosie's audience have been eagerly awaiting for some time, represents some of his best work to date.

California Dreams is not a show I remember ever seeing back in the day, and having seen Rosie's retrospectives on it, I'm not sure whether or not I would have been into it. It's undoubtedly rubbish, particularly when viewed from a modern perspective, but it's also a really interesting show to explore, and Rosie's videos on the subject do a great job of explaining why. You won't come away from them desperate to watch the series as a whole, but even if you never saw it back in the day, you'll feel like you have a better understanding of its existence and its context.

Tottie: The Story of a Doll's House is another show I don't think I ever saw, and I'm not sure I would have watched it when I was a kid even when it was on. However, like his retrospective on California Dreams, Rosie manages to make a look back on the subject compelling, interesting and frequently hilarious — as well as pointing out the weirdly dark nature of a show about stop-motion animated toys, in which the title character is, by a significant margin, the least important character in everything that unfolds on screen.

And finally, from his earlier (pre-GamesMaster) channel, a video on Xenon 2, and how the reality of a game that was popular back in the day can differ quite significantly from the critical consensus on its original release — and how people who cling relentlessly to the latter can make it quite difficult to talk about something.

Rosie's a good lad who puts a ton of effort into his videos, and I'm happy to see he's enjoyed so much success over the last few years. His recent woes with YouTube — along with a similar, but worse situation back in 2024 — are an unfortunate reminder that this sort of success can be worryingly fragile through no fault of the creator. So go give him a view or two, and if you like what you see, consider becoming a YouTube member or a Patreon supporter. Good work — particularly when it's achieved without the usual manipulative "influencer" tactics — deserves to be compensated, or at the very least, appreciated.

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The post #oneaday Day 659: Justice for RTS: achieved... again appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I'm partly inspired by a discussion I had earlier in a Discord that I'm a member of, in which we talked about things we liked from creators who clearly just made things for the joy of creating them — not in the hope of "going viral" or making a living out of them. I'm talking about stuff like Badgers, Badgers, Badgers and its ilk — although as it happened, a lot of those works did end up going viral and doubtless making their creators a fair amount of money. The point is that they weren't created with that in mind from the outset.

Funny, silly comedy songs and animations aren't the only thing I want to talk about today, though. More broadly, I just want to share a few things that always make me smile. Not always because they're funny, but because I just find them uplifting in some way. And where better to begin than with the irrepressible Hatsune Miku?

I'm not sure what exactly caused me to hyperfixate on this piece of music from Hatsune Miku Logic Paint S so much, but make no mistake; I most certainly did hyperfixate on it, as for a significant portion of my time playing the Picross-esque puzzles in Logic Paint S, I had set the in-game playlist to be nothing but this track.

I think I like this just because it's undeniably cheerful, bouncy and upbeat. It feels like it fits Miku nicely, and it's a good accompaniment to doing some puzzles — or just for when you need a bit of a pick-me-up.

My first encounter with Cave's classic bullet hell shoot 'em up series Dodonpachi was on iOS devices, where there was an excellent version of Dodonpachi Resurrection. One thing which still stands out about the mobile version of this game is that it features an exclusive game mode that not only has its own mechanics, it has a completely different soundtrack to the game's regular, rather more moody score.

People like the standard Dodonpachi Resurrection music a lot, and to be sure, it's good. But there's something I really like about these completely new tracks from the mobile version — and particularly this one, which accompanies the opening level. It's got that real adventurous "we're setting off on a brave, bold mission!" feel to it that I really like; it's full of hope for the future, rather than a bleak sense of submission to the endless horrors that await. And I think we could all do with a bit of that right now.

I maintain that Inti Creates' Gal*Gun games are some of the best games that no-one will admit to playing because they're about making girls collapse in euphoric ecstasy by pointing at them. All three of them are really solid rail shooters, each with their own distinctive mechanics and story to follow, and they all have great soundtracks, too.

This track, used for a lot of the regular levels in Gal*Gun 2, is a short but sweet track that really sums up the game's energy. There's not a trace of maliciousness anywhere in any of the Gal*Gun games, and their music never fails to make me smile.

Right, time we had a silly one. I remember coming across this one for the first time and absolutely pissing myself laughing. It still always makes me chuckle now… particularly the "Cock!" break in the second verse.

This sort of thing is very representative of what was going on in the Badgers, Badgers, Badgers-adjacent space on sites like rathergood.com, b3ta.com and Weebl's Stuff back in the mid '00s to the early '10s. The thing I like is that although endearingly lo-fi, particularly in the vocal samples, the whole thing is very well put together and works as a standalone song. It's just better with the animation.

Regrettably, the original animation for this piece is no longer available. It used to be that you could type in "2204355" into Google Search, hit "I'm Feeling Lucky" and it would take you to a technicolour Flash animation featuring a pixelated dancing guy from an old KFC advert and this delightful chiptune remix of the theme from ALF. Thankfully, the person behind the music came forward and published the music in its full glory on YouTube some 15 years ago, so even though the Google trick doesn't work any more, we can, at least, still enjoy the tune.

Side note: this blog is old enough that I blogged about when I first found this. It was, it has to be said, a particularly dark period in my life, when I had just split from my first wife and was at the lowest I've ever been. I happened to stumble across this one evening and found that it drove the darkness away for a few minutes at a time, so I watched that stupid animation over and over for hours. Thank you, mystery 2204355 creator, and thank you, Zalza, for helping me in my hour of need, even if you have no idea that you did so.

I wrote a bit about Sbassbear the other day, but I can't not mention their most recently published Game Grumps remix, as it's one of their best yet. Once again, this is a video I just keep returning to because it makes me smile.

Actually, to hell with it, there's another Sbassbear one I love also, and I can't pick between these two, so you're getting both:

I love BEANS because it's just so chaotic and ridiculous. But I love Shnigedy Ding Dong because it encapsulates the feeling you get when playing Tetris Effect Connected — and specifically, the wonderful mode where three people team up against another player, every so often bringing their independent wells together into one giant superwell, accompanied by a massive crescendo in the music and… as Dan says in the video, "ohhh, I love it so much!"

Right, that's enough. Off to bed with me now.

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The post #oneaday Day 658: A random selection of pieces of music that make me smile appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

With that in mind, and given that this is a personal blog, it stands to reason that I should probably start talking about weird, hyper-niche things that, statistically speaking, very few people probably give a shit about. But if Chris "Papapishu" Person's work over on Aftermath is anything to go by, there will always be an odd little audience who are very much into weird, hyper-niche things.

I guess part of the reason I tend to hold off on writing about weird, hyper-niche things is worrying about whether or not I will actually be able to fill a convincing blog post on the subject, but, well, I've taken care of about half of what I consider the "bare minimum" for each day with this preamble, and thus I now feel suitably equipped to actually tell you what I want to talk about.

Today I would like to tell you about our toilet plunger.

A plunger is one of those things that you don't really think about needing until it's too late. At least, I've always been that way; I am fortunate in the fact that my wife likes to be prepared for all sorts of eventualities, and thus she is the sort of person to purchase a toilet plunger in the anticipation that we might need one at some point.

But my wife didn't buy just any old plunger. Oh, no. She bought a Drain Blaster.

You might think that looks quite like a normal plunger, and you would be partially right; like a regular old plunger it has the big rubber thing that you put over the hole in the bog, along with a smaller head for dealing with, presumably, plugholes. (I have only ever used it for the toilet.)

Where a Drain Blaster differs from a regular plunger may well already be apparent from the picture above, but just in case it isn't: it's all in that thick cylinder of a body, and the handle above it. Because you can pull that handle out to fill the cylinder with air, and then blast the air back out by plunging the handle back in.

And you know what? It does an amazing job of unblocking a toilet. I don't really know how one uses a regular plunger for the same job other than just sort of… plunging it in there and hoping for the best, but with the Drain Blaster it really is as simple as putting the rubber bit over the hole in the toilet, pulling up the handle and pumping it a few times until you hear everything proceed on its merry way down your soil pipe. I am yet to encounter a blocked toilet that has been able to stand up to even the briefest assault from a Drain Blaster, and, as someone who blocks the toilet more frequently than he would perhaps like to admit, I am exceedingly grateful that, at some point in the past, my wife decided to go hard on our choice of plunger.

I am reminded of a legendary group text (it may have been an MSN Messenger conversation, given the era) from among my friendship group at university, when one of our number (not me, surprisingly) admitted that he had produced a poo so formidable that he absolutely could not get rid of it. It eventually took several kettlefuls of boiling water to break up the beast enough for it to finally vacate the premises, and he chronicled the entire process, which was unfolding late at night when, being university students, many of us could be relied upon to be a little bit tipsy and thus very receptive to such a saga. Thankfully this was an age before smartphones, so there were no pictures involved, but the entire process was chronicled in exhaustive detail. I will never forget it.

I mention this because I wonder how different his experiences would have been if he had a Drain Blaster. I don't even know if Drain Blasters existed back then, though given that the device is essentially a bike pump with a plunger head, I would be surprised if they didn't. Could the sheer volume of this legendary turd stand up to the relentless assault of a Drain Blaster, or would the boiling water still be necessary? I guess we will never know.

Anyway, that's what I wanted to talk about today. If you read all of that… uh… well done, I guess?

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The post #oneaday Day 657: Drain Blaster appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Whenever I see something like this, it just comes across as a completely alien way to react. If I'm using a device, and it behaves in a way that I don't expect it to, the first thing I look for is if I'm doing anything wrong — which I inevitably am. I use it as an opportunity to learn exactly what it is that I'm doing wrong, then to never make that same mistake ever again, because I learned what the problem was and how to fix it. The absolute last thing I would consider doing is going on social media and yelling at the company who makes the product in question — particularly when there is absolutely no way of them solving my issue without making me look, at the very least, a little bit stupid.

I get that people are frustrated when things don't work the way they expect and they don't know why. But receiving a message filled with swearing and abuse because you didn't think to press a single button that would immediately resolve the problem you are having — yes, this really was one of the incidents today — does not make the person who has to answer that message feel particularly inclined to want to help you. I mean, most of the time they will go out of their way to help you, even for particularly stupid questions — contrary to popular belief, there are, in fact, stupid questions — but you can rest assured that they're having a good giggle at you behind your back.

Note that I absolutely do not have a problem with someone who does have a question with a simple and straightforward answer, and who asks that question without becoming abusive. I am more than happy to help anyone like that out. But someone who bursts into an inbox with no prior contact and fills their message with "wtf" and "ffs" and all that sort of shit… well, they're not getting their relationship with us off on a particularly good foot now, are they?

The only time I've ever yelled at a company on social media was when CEX missold me an expensive arcade stick with the promise it would work on the consoles I asked if it would work on, and it did not do that. After the staff in the shop refused to help, I had little option but to Karen it up a bit and eventually got the situation resolved. I'm not particularly proud of that little episode, but I did manage to get it resolved without any swearing or abuse at the staff in question — just a lot (a lot) of repeating myself.

Anyway, don't be rude to staff of a company if the fault is actually completely of your own creation. It's not hard.

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The post #oneaday Day 656: User error appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

To recap: a little while back, NVidia introduced its new "DLSS5" technology via transparently obvious Digital Foundry advertorial video. I still don't really know what DLSS is, or what it used to be I guess, but this latest incarnation of it did… not go down well, to say the least.

The reason? It's fucking generative AI, because of course it is. In this case, it's generative AI that takes two multi-thousand dollar graphics cards to render a slop filter over the top of the perfectly functional graphics the game already had. Early defenders tried to convince everyone else that it was just "improving the lighting", but then Huang came out and said the following:

First of all, [the critics are] completely wrong. The reason for that is because, as I have explained very carefully, DLSS5 fuses controllability of the geometry and textures and everything about the game with generative AI. It's not post-processing at the frame level, it's generative control at the geometry level.

(Tom's Hardware)

Okay. So it is generative AI. Which sucks. And everyone hates. And in this instance, it is adding what is colloquially referred to as a "yassification" filter atop character graphics in particular, making them look markedly different from their actual, canonical designs. You know, the ones that artists worked on.

Today, Kotaku posted what I would argue is a bit of a fluff piece on the subject, quoting Huang extensively. Huang is presumably in some sort of "damage control" mode — although not that much, because the part of NVidia that makes decent graphics cards for gaming PCs and consoles is of very little importance to a company that has very much thrown its entire lot in with generative AI.

From the Kotaku piece, quoting Huang, who was speaking on a recent episode of Lex Fridman's podcast:

DLSS 5 is 3D conditioned, 3D guided. It's ground truth structure data guided. And so the artist determined the geometry we are completely truthful to. The geometry maintains in every single frame.

Okay, first of all, what the fuck does "ground truth structure data guided" mean? Secondly, I'm sure the geometry is still there, it's just underneath a hallucinated AI-generated image.

He goes on (emphasis mine):

Every single frame, it enhances but it doesn't change anything. The system is open, you could train your own models to determine, and you could even in the future prompt it. You know, 'I want it to be a toon shader, I want it to look like this kinda,' so you can give it even an example. And it would generate in the style of that, all consistent with the artistry, you know, the style, the intent of the artist. And so all of that is done for the artist, so that they can create something that is more beautiful, but still in the style that they want.

So let me get this straight. It "doesn't change anything", but it does "generate in the style of" how it is prompted, am I getting this right? So it does, in fact, change something?

And who is doing this "prompting", exactly? Who is saying "I want it to be a toon shader"? The end user? Because that sure as fuck doesn't sound like being "consistent with the artistry and intent of the artist". Or is it the artist? Because if an artist wants their visuals in a toon style, they'll design them in a fucking toon style in the first place and they don't need the slop machine to do it for them. Or they don't if they're an artist with any fucking skills, anyway.

All this just confirms exactly what we've known for a while now: Jensen Huang is an enemy of the arts. He doesn't give a shit what the "style and intent of the artist" are, because his magic slop machine can just overwrite it and make it look "more beautiful". Fuck the artists who worked hard on each scene, each character, each object. Fuck having a coherent, distinctive artistic vision and visual style — bring on the uncanny valley AI slop! Fuck everyone who makes it their life's work to bring interactive worlds and the characters who inhabit them to life!

Jensen Huang, you are a rancid little fuckboi who, years after this bubble pops, will be looked back on as one of the most insidious, dangerous influences on the arts that there has been for a very long time. I'm not sure what sort of legacy you think you're leaving behind, but I can tell you with great confidence that it will not be a flattering one.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 654: Jensen Huang is an enemy of the arts appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

New Tricks opens with UCOS being fronted by Sandra Pullman (Amanda Redman), a semi-disgraced police officer who gained notoriety after shooting a dog on a bungled raid that left the person she was supposed to be rescuing paralysed after falling out of a window. She assembles a colourful team of former police officers, including the diamond geezer Gerry Standing (Dennis Waterman), the extremely neurodivergent Brian "Memory" Lane and the relatively-normal-but-talks-to-his-dead-wife Jack Halford.

Between them, they form an initially uneasy alliance that subsequently blossoms into both genuine friendship and a wonderful sense of camaraderie as they solve a series of cold cases, many of which have been dormant for 20-30 years or more. As a result, Pullman more than redeems herself in the eyes of her superiors — though she still occasionally gets stick about the whole dog-shooting thing — and her band of merry old men find some meaning in their lives, as well as some closure in some longstanding issues.

This core cast remains constant for a significant proportion of the show, and we get to know them all very well. Halford is the first to leave; after finding closure on the murder of his wife, he departs to live out the end of his life peacefully after discovering he has a terminal illness. Lane is next to go, once again after reaching some closure on his "case that got away" — closure that involves him sacrificing his new career in the name of justice and the truth when he accuses a powerful member of the police for wrongdoing.

Standing lasts the longest, sticking around until the second episode of the show's final season. The two-part story that sees him departing after having faked his own death gives him a good story to go out on; he didn't have quite the same "issues" hanging over his head as Halford and Lane, so he needed something like this to make his departure an event of note in the same way, and it worked well, revealing some hitherto unknown details about his past career that felt very much in keeping with what we had learned about him over the course of the prior eleven seasons.

The replacement cast members include the Glaswegian Steve McAndrew (Denis Lawson), who is rebuilding his life following estrangement from his wife and son; Dan Griffin (Nicholas Lyndhurst), who is a frighteningly competent, knowledgeable individual who acts a bit as the group's "Superman" at times, despite occasionally demonstrating himself to be a bit unaware in terms of social interactions; and the latest to join the group, following Standing's departure, is Ted Case (Larry Lamb), a superstitious but intelligent former detective with a gift for interviewing witnesses and interrogating suspects. Outside of the "old men" of the group, Pullman is eventually replaced by Sasha Miller (Tamzin Outhwaite) towards the end of the series, and while this is probably the biggest upheaval the series saw, she settles into the new role quickly and does a good job.

New Tricks, across its entire run, strikes a good balance between the inherent comedy in such an unusual, eccentric ensemble cast, and the inherent darkness of a series about investigating longstanding cold cases, typically murders. The show thankfully sidesteps some of the clichés of police procedurals after its initial episodes; the pilot episode and the first couple of regular episodes give Pullman a superior who is the very definition of the stereotypical "shouting police chief", but before long he is replaced by Robert Strickland (Anthony Calf), an altogether calmer individual who, while coming from a background of privilege, often sides with "the little guy" (relatively speaking) rather than The Establishment as a whole. In the context of the series, this means that while he is often outwardly a by-the-book sort of individual, on the down-low he is immensely supportive of UCOS' eccentricities and lets them get away with a lot — because they get results.

(Yes, I know UCOS can be argued to be part of "The Establishment" also, given that they are a police department in their own right. But New Tricks makes a point of showing that the police as a whole are certainly not infallible, and there are several cases that involve the unit uncovering corruption within the organisation, eventually bringing justice to someone who had been wronged, many years ago in some cases.)

New Tricks' biggest strength is in its characters. We get to know the initial ensemble cast particularly intimately over the course of their time with the show; the later additions are also plenty likeable and get their own stories to shine, though by the simple fact that they have less time on screen in total, we never feel we quite get to know them as well as Pullman, Standing, Lane and Halford. Ted Case is the character who suffers the most in this regard; joining the cast full-time partway into its final season, some of his development feels a little rushed — although this, in itself, works quite well in the context of his character. The reveal that he is gay is handled in a particularly entertaining way that, from the relatively little we know of him at that point, feels very much in keeping with how he does things.

Given that the show ran for a long time — 2003-2015, to be exact — means that things change quite significantly in society over the course of its complete run. The show starts in a pre-smartphone age, for one, though the team are all comfortably using tablets (as in, iPads, not little boxes of pills) by its conclusion, and, as you might expect from the composition of its cast, issues such as sexism and ageism are explored. Several episodes, particularly later in the show's overall run, also deal with crimes that have a racial component or that involve domestic abuse and sexual assault, and while the show isn't particularly gory or shock-horror, it also doesn't shy away from real issues.

I'm sure there's plenty one could criticise about the show as a whole, particularly as today, in 2026, a lot of people have a somewhat skeptical view of the police and their role in society — and the way in which police-centric TV shows can somewhat "whitewash" this fact. But taking it as pure escapism — as a fun detective show with some colourful characters — it was highly entertaining, and I'm glad I took the time to watch it from start to finish.

Now I need something to replace it…

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 652: New Tricks - done appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Rather frustratingly for you, I'm not going to give you any details on it just yet because it's something I want to keep secret until I'm ready to launch it. It's the kind of thing that's going to take quite a while to put together, you see, and I want to launch it when it's in a "complete" state rather than doing things piecemeal. It is, however, something that I hope folks will find worthwhile and valuable, and it will allow me to realise something that I have wanted to achieve for quite some time, but have never really quite figured out the best way to go about.

I'll be honest: the reason why my brain is always mulling over Creative Projects is because as I get older, I feel increasingly… I don't know, "concerned" about What I Will Leave Behind. I'm not planning on dying any time soon, I hasten to add, but when I look back over my time on this Earth, I want to feel like I achieved something that mattered. My wife and I have not had kids and are not going to have kids (through mutually agreed choice) and as such any "legacy" I leave behind will have to depend on what I was able to achieve in the time allotted to me.

Now, I'm sure one could say that I have already "left something behind" — several things, in fact. There's this blog, there's MoeGamer, there's the stuff I wrote for various websites (although most of those are now defunct and thus only accessible via the Internet Archive and/or websites that have ingested all the material from a now-dead other site), there's the contributions I've made to magazines over the years, there's my YouTube channel, there's all the Evercade manuals I've had a hand in writing, there's the blogs and videos I've made for Evercade.

And yet, I dunno, I sort of feel dissatisfied. I feel like relatively few people know who I am. When people look back on sites like USgamer and GamePro, I'm never mentioned. Whenever I've launched new Creative Projects, they don't get any buzz from peers I may have worked with or adjacent to. Don't get me wrong, I have absolutely no desire to be "famous" (or "infamous", for that matter) — but sometimes it does just feel like it would be nice to have a little bit of recognition (or, hell, just acknowledgement) for the hard work I've done over the years.

As always, if you're reading this, the above is not directed at you. If you're reading this, you probably Give A Shit about me, and that is nice, so thank you. I'm just talking more broadly. I'm not getting any younger, and it seems that getting vaguely maudlin over whether or not you have "achieved" anything in your lifespan is a natural thing to do when one is not getting any younger.

There's a line from the Final Fantasy IX manual that always sticks with me at times like this. For the longest time I was convinced it was attributed to Zidane, but it's actually attached to Freya's character profile in the original manual. The line is "To be forgotten is worse than death."

I probably don't need to explain myself there, do I…?

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 651: New project idea appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Lunch was good. The boss treated us to a meal at a local (to the office) Turkish place. I had calamari as a starter followed by lamb moussaka. It was really good, but it made me just want to nap for the afternoon!

On the way back, I listened to some stuff from Sbassbear, a musical collective on YouTube that are probably best known for their Game Grumps remixes, which are consistently hilarious and incredible in their quality.

Tonight I listened to two of their more "conceptual" albums. The first was GrumpWave, which was a series of 30+ minute lo-fi tracks with some of Arin and Dan's more thoughtful conversations overlaid. It was a rather contemplative listen, and I really enjoyed it.

The other thing I listened to was Fever Dream Radio, an ADHD nightmare of an album designed around the concept of a restless, anxious soul constantly channel flipping on the radio. It's a lot to take in but was frequently hilarious. Musical comedy is tricky to do well, because to really succeed you have to absolutely commit to The Bit, but Sbassbear has always taken even their most ridiculous compositions and arrangements very seriously. If you think you can handle it, I recommend giving it a listen in its entirety.

Oh, also we have no Internet at home so I'm writing this from bed on my phone. And on that note, time for some very well earned sleep!

The post #oneaday Day 649: Collapse appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Of course, I cannot actually promise that anything following will actually be of substance, but at least I won't be complaining about how much I don't like typing on my phone, because right now I'm typing on my nice keyboard.

I don't really know why this has never occurred to me before. I think at least part of it is down to the fact that plugging a keyboard into a device that is considerably smaller than the input device always felt… "extravagant" somehow, to an unnecessary degree. But I guess it's not that strange. On a trip up to the Edinburgh Fringe with the university Theatre Group (many years ago at this point), I purchased a portable wireless keyboard to use with my Palm handheld, and that was perfectly acceptable to me. So, since I have my keyboard in my bag anyway because I'm bringing my computer to work, I figured I might as well use it for this.

So what have I got to report today, other than the usual long drive down some of the worst roads in the country? (The M25 sucks, as has been well-established on these very pages on numerous occasions, but the A1 is full of potholes now, too.) Well, I decided for my food this evening I'd do something a bit different; rather than loading up on a big bag of portable junk from the nearby Morrisons, I thought I'd try a local Korean place that I've walked past many times and been intrigued by, but never actually given a go.

So I decided to give it a go — and this was, it seems, a very good idea, because the food was delicious. I don't know Korean cuisine particularly well, but the lady behind the counter was extremely helpful, even going so far to ask me if I'd ever eaten the food they had on offer before, and offering me some suggestions and recommendations accordingly. I eventually plumped for Korean chicken kim bab (I think that's spelled right), which is essentially Korean sushi rolls.

This is what they look like:

They were delicious! As well as the Korean fried chicken with a delicious sweet but spicy sauce, there also appeared to be some combination of cucumber, cabbage, carrot and (I think) white daikon radish. And, thankfully, no onion or onion-adjacent stuff. I've found that Korean food doesn't seem to have a lot of onion in it, unlike cuisine from some other areas of east Asia, so I'm absolutely fine with that.

So yeah. That was a good decision, and I will be going there again — perhaps to try something a bit more adventurous next time. It was definitely a substantial, satisfying meal, and at £9 for a generous portion it wasn't excessively expensive either. Sure, it's more than a supermarket sandwich, but it was also several orders of magnitude more tasty. And probably not terrible for you, either.

So that was a nice discovery, and has put me in a relatively pleasant mood for the remainder of the evening. Now I'm just killing time in my room until it's time to sleep, then we have a Big Exciting Meeting (that I've been reassured doesn't mean anything Bad) tomorrow, and the boss is taking us all out to lunch, which will be nice. I know I complain a lot about having to do this monthly visit, but honestly, it's nice to actually see everyone semi-regularly, and if we get treated to something tasty, so much the better.

On that note, then, I think I'm going to spend an hour or two playing some Activision games on Evercade, then hopefully get a good night's sleep for what should be a busy but rewarding day tomorrow. Have a pleasant evening!

The post #oneaday Day 648: Kim Bab Keyboard appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

If you've ever watched any of Rosie's videos, you will know that he absolutely adds "significant original commentary, substantive modifications" and "educational or entertainment value" to every one of his videos. If you're unfamiliar, Rosie's shtick these days is to go through an old TV show and provide acerbic, sarcastic but thoughtful commentary that is frequently hilarious. This commentary is often punctuated with original creative work that Rosie has produced, including remixes of songs in the show, all-original songs that he has created, and sometimes some absolutely brilliant overdubbing and re-editing.

His difficulties largely seem to stem from the fact that he primarily covers old TV shows now, and, as you might expect, making use of clips of these is rife with potential copyright issues. However, YouTube's provisions — and indeed the legal definitions of "fair use" and "fair dealings" — allow the use of copyrighted material, so long as the creator using that work is making substantive changes to them, making it clear that they cannot in any way be confused for the original material.

No-one is going to watch a video on Rosie's channel and say that he is making anything that could be confused for the original. No-one can possibly watch his channel and say that he has not made substantive, creative changes to the stuff he is providing commentary on. He puts in a whole lot more effort than a lot of "reaction" YouTubers — and at the very least, his work could be described as "reaction content". In reality it's much more than that, but since "reaction content" is one of the specific examples YouTube provides of material that can safely be monetised, it's a relevant, absolute bare minimum definition.

The infuriating thing about whenever something like this happens is the completely opaque way in which YouTube communicates these things. There's a problem with "reused content" — sure. Where? When? What video? Why, exactly, is this being picked up on now when it's been fine for several years? None of those questions are answered by YouTube, and you can bet your sweet bippy that they will make it as hard as humanly possible to speak to a living, breathing person who should be able to get this resolved in a matter of minutes.

It's bad enough when something like this happens to small creators who are making little to no money off YouTube. But Rosie, who has found some decent success on the platform over the last few years — and deservedly so — is using YouTube as an important income stream to support himself and his family. For that to be suddenly taken away without warning last thing on a Sunday night, of all times, is completely unacceptable.

At the very minimum, platforms like YouTube should be legally obligated to say exactly what the problem is when inflicting as harsh a punishment as "you now can't make any money from your videos". I suspect the reason they don't is because the majority of this shit is the fault of their "automated systems", and they don't want to admit that sometimes (quite often) they get things very, very wrong.

This is, after all, the second time this has happened to Rosie after a similar incident in November of 2024. Thankfully, that was eventually resolved after a concerted effort by Rosie and people who cared about him — here's hoping that this time is similarly fixed, and our friend can get back to doing what he does best, and what he loves doing.

In the meantime, if you're not subscribed to Rosie, drop by his channel. He's got a lot of great videos there, and deserves your support.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 646: #justice4rts... again appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

No, it's a test to see if you can distinguish between two quite-similar-to-extremely-similar colours. All you have to do is click on the screen where you think the (vertical) dividing line between the two differently coloured halves of the screen is.

Sounds easy, right? To begin with, you probably will find it quite easy. But as it progresses, it becomes really quite challenging — although you'll probably notice some peculiarities as you continue.

For starters, you'll likely notice the dividing line more easily if you move your head or even just your eyes. There's probably a scientific reason behind this, and this makes me feel like I should have probably read the companion blog post to this little test before starting to type here, but oh well. No time like the present, is there?

Okay, I've read it, and it's complicated (but quite interesting). Basically there's a value called the "Just Noticeable Difference" (or "JND") and this determines whether or not we can distinguish two very similar colours as actually being different from one another.

A commonly agreed JND measured on one popular scale (used in the test linked above) is 0.02; colours that exhibit this "distance" between one another are different from each other, but to most people who are just glancing at them, they will look the same. The test introduces slightly artificial conditions by making you actively look for the differences — plus it also depends a bit on how well your display is calibrated — but it's still an interesting way to see quite how solid your perception of colour is — and whether or not that varies between different colour types.

For me, my weakness was bright pinks. I found it quite difficult to distinguish between those, but had much less difficulty with darker, less saturated or overall duller colours. I still scored considerably better than the "average", though — my score was 0.0056.

Give it a go! It's much more interesting than doomscrolling… and definitely a better use of your time and the planet's resources than using Google Gemini if you're bored.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 643: An interesting thing for you to try appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

The website "Android Police" posted an incredibly stupid article today, headlined "I use Gemini when I'm bored — and it's better than doomscrolling". I'm sure I don't have to tell you that the premise of this article is spectacularly dumb and the author, Anu Joy, should feel bad for having written it… if indeed they are actually a real person. You never can be sure of that with engagement-bait articles these days, and the author's complete lack of online presence beyond LinkedIn doesn't fill me with confidence that they actually exist. But never mind.

I'm not going to link to the article because it doesn't deserve it, but I am going to systematically destroy it for today's post, which features a lot of swearing. Hope you don't mind, about either part of that statement. If you do, well, tough titties.

Cock!

Turning boredom into a 5-minute adventure

The first lake-boiling, environmentally ruinous use of the lying plagiarism machine that Anu Joy cites as an antidote to boredom is "turning it into a mini choose-your-own-adventure generator", with her argument being that "rather than passively consuming content, I now engage with short, interactive stories that unfold in real time, making them ideal for five-minute boredom gaps."

In response to this, I would like to introduce any Gemini-brained fuckwits to the long, rich and deep history of the interactive fiction genre, all of which has been written by actual humans, and designed to occupy you for anything between a few minutes and multiple hours — possibly even days or weeks if you get stuck and have the willpower to not look at a walkthrough.

It's easy to get involved with interactive fiction, too! There are plenty of great standalone games that fall into this category, such as Inkle's excellent titles 80 Days, Overboard!, Expelled! and more, plus their adaptations of actual choose-your-own-adventure-style gamebooks such as Sorcery! The indie marketplace itch.io has a whole tag for titles developed in Twine, which are essentially hypertext-based choose-your-own-adventure games. And if you want to get into the history of the medium and its rich diversity developed over the course of the last 40+ years, the Interactive Fiction Database (IFDB) has more interactive fiction than you can probably get through in a lifetime, much of which can be played online right there in your web browser.

Or you could, I don't know, actually read a Choose Your Own Adventure book. They still exist, you know! And, as an adult, a single "run" through one will probably only take you about five minutes!

"Oh, but Gemini can make me something that's never been done before!" No it fucking can't! That's sort of the problem with LLMs! They will never, ever have an original thought because their entire fucking functionality is built on plagiarising other people's work. So why not actually go and enjoy a human being's work rather than burning down a forest to get the obsequious chatbot to "tell you a story?"

FUCK.

Quizzes, riddles and brain-teasers on demand

Do I really have to dignify this with a response? Okay, here are some places you can take quizzes online that don't involve getting a lying robot to make shit up:

The Encyclopaedia Britannica, the place where we used to go to look things up before the Internet, has a whole page full of quizzes.

Puzzle publishing company Lovatts has a straightforward and flexible quiz you can challenge any time.

Fucking Buzzfeed, the website where clickbait goes to die, has tons of quizzes. They're sort of famous for them! (EDIT: I had forgotten that Buzzfeed "pivoted to AI" a couple of years back. Maybe forget about this one.)

The best news of all is that these quizzes are put together by actual humans, so the answers should be right, which is not something you can guarantee with the garbage LLMs like Gemini spew out!

FUUUUUCK.

Curiosity on demand, without the time sink

"Oooh, but Gemini is so good at research and telling me fun little facts!"

Heard of Wikipedia? They feature a different article on their front page every day. And those articles are written by humans. (They're specifically trying to fend off the lying chatbots right now.) Not only that, if you want to dive deeper, they are sourced, so you can actually follow up on the things they say.

If you really want to surprise yourself, bookmark https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random — that will take you to a completely random page, where you can start a whole new knowledge journey that doesn't involve polluting the drinking water of any communities. (Fun fact: you can use /wiki/Special:Random on any sites that run on the MediaWiki software, not just Wikipedia!)

FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

Gemini as a creative partner

"Some days, I'll argue whether pineapple on pizza is a culinary crime or a stroke of genius," Joy writes. If that's the level of your creativity, I suggest throwing a dart at Reddit and posting about how cool and random?! you think bacon is, you t3hPeNgU1NoFd00m, you.

If you just want someone to talk to, that is literally what social media is for. I know there are lots of things one can criticise about social media (particularly the Nazi bar that is Twitter in 2026), but if you just want to start a conversation with someone, there are few things easier than typing "@random hello, I disagree with your opinion on the Star Wars prequels, let's have a fight" or some other such bollocks.

If you want to talk to someone you don't know, there are services for that, too! Join a random Discord — or even better, one for something you're interested in! Play an MMO! Go on IRC! Brave Chatroulette! (Omegle apparently doesn't exist any more after some nasty shit went down there, so maybe don't go there.)

Just don't waste your fucking life talking to the cunting chatbot. It doesn't love you. It never will. And you're making the worst people in the world richer just by looking at it.

FUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!

Boredom doesn't stand a chance

If you are bored in the world as it exists today and can't think of anything better to do than open up Google fucking Gemini, you are a lost fucking cause. There is more entertainment, more media, more games, more reading material, more opportunities for socialising online than there have ever been. Not only that, there are unprecedented opportunities for you to get creative and express yourself in all manner of different ways, regardless of your past experience. You could even start your very own blog where you yell at people who might not exist!

There is no fucking excuse for turning to the chatbot "because you're bored". Even if the absolute limit of your creativity is "debating the merits of pineapple pizza", which Joy mentions twice in that dogshit article.

I realise that I have given the article in question far more attention than it ever deserved. But hey! It was the inspiration for something actually creative. And who knows? Someone might actually find some of the links I've provided useful.

Friends don't let friends use chatbots. So if I ever hear that you, dear reader, have turned to Google Gemini "because you're bored", I will hunt you down, wherever you are, and I will slap you repeatedly about the face with a wet trout.

Here endeth the lesson.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 642: I will never use Gemini when I'm bored appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

His thinking is that learning how to do something new absolutely must be something useful that you can use in your day-to-day life, and preferably make money from. And the reason I listen to him is because I understand where he's coming from; we live in a mercenary world with a cost of living that continues to escalate, and thus it would seem eminently sensible to learn something that would, at the very least, have some value in the job market.

But at the same time, there are things I want to learn about that, while arguably "pointless", I think would just be fun and interesting. One that I keep coming back to is the concept of programming — but specifically programming on the Atari 8-bit home computers.

I used to dabble quite a bit in programming in BASIC when I was a kid. I had several floppy disks' worth of BASIC listings that represented a combination of things I had typed in from magazines, things I had adapted from things I had typed in, and completely original creations. I never got particularly good at programming in Atari BASIC, but I did enjoy doing it. And for the longest time I've found myself wondering "what if I actually applied myself and tried to rediscover and expand on those skills?"

That's about where the gremlin enters the picture, you see. There is no rational reason why I should spend time learning how to program a long-defunct computer that you can't buy any more and which, in the grand scheme of Home Computers People Have Heard Of, ranks far behind the Commodore 64 and Spectrum, despite having capabilities at the very least on a par with, and often superior to, both of them.

"It's a waste of time," he says. "There's no point. You won't make any money from it. No-one will want to hire you based on that."

Well, frankly, who gives a shit? I'm not getting any younger, and I feel like learning new things is a good way to keep the brain active. So I think what I might actually do is put some serious time into this. Maybe devote an evening or two a week to it and see what happens.

It might not go anywhere. But at least I'll have been trying something new. And that's quite an exciting thing.

Another thing that has been holding me back is not really knowing where to start, but a blog I stumbled across by chance earlier today gave me some good recommendations of books to take a look at. And if people back in the '80s could learn how to program using just these books and no Internet to look things up on, I'm sure I can do something similar.

Maybe. We'll see.

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The post #oneaday Day 641: Learning something new and pointless appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I learned today that something I had been looking forward to happening — which would be a good thing for me, and particularly for my mental health — might not be happening, through no fault of my own, and through no fault of the person who was organising this Thing. Instead, the blame can be placed squarely (albeit slightly indirectly, removed by a degree of, like, one or two) at the feet of the perpetual garbage fire that is the tech industry in the mid 2020s — specifically, the chip shortages caused by all the AI crap.

Every so often I see an AI booster wanking on about how much more "productive" AI has made them, and I do stop to question if I've got things right. And the answer is inevitably "yes"; every time I ask this question I find myself feeling more and more resolute in my absolute, complete and utter distaste for AI and what it is doing to the tech industry — and, more broadly, what it is doing to anyone who wants to do anything that isn't AI-related in the tech space.

It's just the latest in a long line of examples of people and organisations with a lot of money and influence taking everything that other people might need, and making (supposed) use of it for something that no-one actually wants — and which causes knock-on effects on multiple steps down the "ladder". The really galling thing about this all is that it's arguably not even organisations with a lot of real money; the seemingly daily billion-dollar deals that are being bandied around are all being done with money that doesn't actually exist, that has no intention of existing, and which will never exist as anything other than a means of making the worldwide economy collapse completely.

I can go to the shop these days and get a few snacky bits and it'll be £50 or more. I shudder to think what the current Happenings are doing to petrol prices. And, of course, it's getting near-impossible to buy anything even vaguely related to computer memory or storage for what one might call a "reasonable" price. Not all of these are directly and specifically related to AI, of course, but they do all relate to how the economy is utterly fucked as a result of everything that has been happening for the last few years.

And of course it's selfish for me to speak up about this stuff because it's something in my life that is being specifically affected by it — but regular readers will know that I have been pretty staunchly opposed to All This Bullshit long before the still-vagueposted news that I had today.

I'm just so tired. When I was young, I thought there was a point you'd get to in your adult life where everything was just sort of sorted and you could get on with living and enjoying your life. I feel like my parents had that. (They might disagree. But it's the impression I got.) But no-one living through this horrible, horrible time in existence is getting any degree of peace, because everyone is being affected by the absolute worst pieces of shit in the world to varying degrees.

I'm tired of it. So very tired. And I wish there was an easy way to make it go away.

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The post #oneaday Day 640: I hate 2026 appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

What I mean by this is that point in an online argument where people start going on about "ad hominem", "strawmen", "motte and bailey" and "No True Scotsman". And probably some others.

These are all valid logical fallacies, of course, but the sheer frequency with which they are trotted out by people absolutely desperate to win an online argument makes it absolutely exhausting to even attempt having a discussion about some things. Because more often than not, the person busting out The Usborne Big Book of Logical Fallacies isn't actually interested in getting their point across or changing anyone's mind; they just want to feel like they "won" the argument. And, at the point The Usborne Big Book of Logical Fallacies enters the picture, this is usually part of an attempt to paint themselves as the victim.

Other telltale signs include attempting to argue that positive representation of marginalised groups is actually a form of racism and/or sexism (against straight white men, obviously), taking great offence at the concept of fascism even being mentioned (and often expressing a desire that it be "discussed" or "debated"), using the term "diversity of opinion", claiming that women, non-white ethnic minorities and/or transgender people in leading roles are somehow "unrealistic" and, of course, turning to that old favourite term: woke.

Now, I won't lie. There were a few years where I found myself skating around this territory. I've talked more about that in this post, so I won't repeat the soul-searching and heart-opening from that post (though I encourage you to read it if you would like to know more). However, people can learn, grow and change, and that is exactly what I have done over the years. Across the COVID years and into Trump's second presidency, I have come to see that a lot of the things the people I once dismissed as online firebrands were attempting to warn us all about have actually come true.

And, as an extension of that, I came to see that some of the times I was needlessly defensive and insular, I should have been standing alongside people. After all, my beliefs have always erred on the left-leaning side of things; my frustration from those dark years was, as much as anything, frustration at being lumped in with right-wing-to-far-right-outright-Nazis based on nothing more than the media I enjoyed — particularly anime-adjacent stuff that often took a walk on the lewd side of life.

I knew that I wasn't a bad person, and I knew that enjoying the things I enjoyed didn't make me a bad person; frustration at being assumed to be a bad person based on those tastes was what caused me to lash out and, at times, do and say things that I regret. And yet even back then, I could see those deploying The Usborne Big Book of Logical Fallacies as what they were: people who didn't really care about anything other than scoring imaginary Internet Points. They were not my allies. They were not my friends. They were insufferable dickheads.

Today, I recognise that it is, in fact, possible to have the interests and tastes I do and not find yourself drifting towards the shit-encrusted mouth of what is typically referred to today as "the alt-right pipeline". There are lots of left-leaning folks who do love sexy stuff, and one thing I will say for online discourse is that discussion over such things has improved over the course of the last ten years or so. There's still a way to go, but it's better.

As part of that, it's important to recognise that certain parts of popular media do have a far-right problem. And as part of that recognition, it's important to stand up and say that you will not stand for tossers ruining the thing that you love, rather than being frustrated at feeling like you're getting lumped in with said tossers. You probably aren't, so long as you're not using their talking points.

Such as, you know, The Usborne Big Book of Logical Fallacies. There really is only one type of person who busts out The Usborne Big Book of Logical Fallacies during an online discussion. And believe me, you don't want to be that person.

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The post #oneaday Day 639: The Usborne Big Book of Logical Fallacies appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

This is a meaningful, worthwhile step because although "1 stone lost" is also a milestone, it somehow feels more significant when your actual weight has a particularly noticeable difference in it — like the "stone" figure being different. This, to me, is a good sign that what I'm doing is working — and, more to the point, that it's something sustainable that I'm not about to get bored with and give up on in frustration.

The trouble with a lot of diets is that they become demoralising and boring. And very few things make you want to eat like boredom — at least that's the case for me. What I've found, by calorie counting each day, is that I can still enjoy all the things I like to have and still lose weight. Along the way I'm finding ways to be more "calorie efficient" with those things that I like, too, while not feeling guilty about having an occasional treat — usually within the boundaries of the daily calorie count, but I've found that having a day a week when you "cheat" does wonders for the morale.

I'm sure the challenge factor will increase as my weight lowers and the number of calories I can have per day falls accordingly, but one thing that I've found having successfully stuck to this for quite some time now is that I'm not feeling the same urge to want to overindulge that I have done in the past. I'm finding that having a modestly sized breakfast, lunch and dinner and a number of guilt-free snacks throughout the day keeps me going and well within the calorie count. Essentially it's following the principle of never allowing myself to get hungry enough to want to demolish an entire large bag of Doritos or something.

Like I say, though, the best thing I've found so far is that I'm able to enjoy things that I just plain like eating, and haven't had to turn to the sort of "success stories" you read in weight loss magazines — you know the sort of thing, "I used to have a massive fryup for breakfast every morning, now I start my day with a glass of water, half a banana and a handful of chia seeds". Nope, I can still quite happily have cereal with chocolate in it for breakfast, a bacon sandwich or noodles for lunch and pretty much whatever I want for dinner.

Of course, I might lose weight more quickly if I was having more salads and vegetables and fruit and whatever — but I have to be realistic about this. If I eat something that I don't enjoy or don't find filling and satisfying, then I just end up wanting to eat something I do like later, and I end up having much more food than I really need. Right now, with the weight I am, I need a decent amount of calories just to keep ticking over, so I'm going to continue enjoying the success I'm having the way it's working at the moment. When I weigh significantly less and will need much fewer calories per day to continue losing weight, then we'll have a look at even "healthier" options as means of keeping the weight off.

For now, this is working. And I'm pleased about that. It's making me feel like I might actually be able to do this; I might actually be able to beat this. Let's see how things are looking in a few months' time.

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The post #oneaday Day 638: Actual progress appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Slow Roads isn't really a "game". There's no objective, no win state, no fail state, no punishments for doing things "wrong" and indeed no "right" way to do things, save for the implied suggestion that you stay on the road. As you can see from the screenshot above, this is not mandatory.

Slow Roads plops you into a procedurally generated world based on either the rolling English countryside — the sort of undulating terrain you'd see if you were driving around the Peak District, say — and invites you to just drive. There's no other cars on the roads so you can drive as safely or unsafely as you like; this is a pure playground in which you can take your electric car, bus or futuristic motorcycle and just go. It's a pleasantly liberating, relaxing experience that I find myself turning to in quiet moments when I just want to do something, but I don't want to have to think about it too hard.

I forget who first pointed me in the direction of Slow Roads and even when it was. I've definitely had it on my bookmarks bar for several years at this point, and over the course of those years it has continued to evolve gradually. The first version I tried only had the car and the countryside terrain in the daytime. Over time, more features have been added, including the ability to adjust the countryside scene between four different seasons and four times of day and set the weather conditions, choose how winding (or not) you want the road to be, how wide you want it to be and a variety of characteristics about how the controls handle.

The game has somewhat sim-like tendencies in how it handles. You have to slow down for corners, and the three different vehicles have a very different feel to how they handle; the bus, for example, appropriately feels like a large, lumbering vehicle that it's probably not a good idea to throw into a corner at 80mph, while at the other end of the spectrum, the bike provides a frighteningly fast thrill ride, and could probably get you around the most twisty roads at high speed once you learn how to handle it.

That's it. That's all Slow Roads is. There's no point to it. And yet I love it. It's not trying to be anything that it's not. It's not being designed for "player retention" or "monetisation". It just is. It's a lovely little thing, and if you've never spent any time fiddling around with it, I highly recommend it.

The one long-term goal for Slow Roads appears to be for it to have a standalone Steam release, which looks set for April of this year (2026 if you're reading in The Future, assuming we're not all dead by then), with a demo towards the end of this month. It will be great to see this project finally come to some sort of "fruition", such as it is, and I have whiled away more than enough hours in the Web-based version to quite happily toss the developer a few quid when the full version finally arrives.

Now, maybe just a few miles before bed…

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The post #oneaday Day 637: Slow Roads appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Pic unrelated. I was just experimenting.

I hate Mondays. I mean, I hate getting out of bed most days, but on Mondays it's always particularly challenging, for a variety of reasons. The most obvious, of course, is that getting out of bed on a Monday is an acknowledgement that the weekend is, in fact, over, and that you are going to have to do something vaguely useful with your existence for the next five days.

For me, I have the added annoyance that Monday is Meetings Day. I have one at 10am, another at 11am, sometimes another at 2pm and yet another at 3pm. Somewhere amid all that I have to figure out a week's worth of stuff to get done in the space of a couple of hours so that I can actually use the rest of my week in a manner that is productive and useful to the rest of the team.

I despise meetings. I always have. I'm not sure I've ever had a meeting that I walked out of where I felt "that was an excellent use of my time". I got in trouble at one job for finding a meeting so boring that I actually fell asleep in it. When working from home started, I discovered that I could literally go to bed and fall asleep during the 60-90 minute long "Good Morning Call" meetings we had every Tuesday at the job I was working at the time, and no-one ever noticed. I am the embodiment of the concept "This Meeting Could Have Been an Email".

And yet certain people are obsessed with the idea of having meetings. I'm talking generally here, not about anyone specific at my current or previous jobs — these are just some observations that I've seen over the course of various occasions of employment. But yes. Some people are obsessed with the idea that having everyone looking bored on Zoom or Teams several times a week is somehow productive, when in fact everyone would be much more productive if they were left alone to get on with their job, and only got bothered when someone specifically needed their attention on something.

I sort of get the justification. The idea is that if you all get together — preferably face-to-face — on a semi-regular basis, you will communicate better with one another because you are more likely to think of one another as actual people. But I can't help but feel there are much, much better ways to do this than Having A Meeting.

I don't know anyone who relishes the prospect of weekly meetings, at any job I have ever worked at. I know plenty of people who dread it, particularly if they have been forced into having to speak or present something, but no-one who actually enjoys these things. So why do we continue to insist on them?

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The post #oneaday Day 633: Garfield had it right all along appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I'm just coming up on the end of the tenth series out of twelve and I've been enjoying it a lot. It's been a consistently interesting watch, with some excellent characters who have some good backstories that get some decent payoff over the long term. I understand that the point I'm currently watching is where some people feel like it started to run out of steam a bit, leading to, among other things, one of the original cast members moving on because he felt things had become stale and another two departing after an apparently public spat with the writers, but I'm still enjoying the show with its new cast members. Former lead Amanda Redman said she felt like the cast had lost their anarchic edge in the later episodes, and I see why she said that — but really it's just a different vibe thanks to a different set of characters.

Of particular note is the presence of Nicholas Lyndhurst, an actor who I'm sure most people associate with comedic roles thanks to his most well-known appearances as Rodney in Only Fools and Horses and Gary Sparrow in Goodnight Sweetheart, but in New Tricks he does extremely well as a particularly serious-seeming member of the team. He still has his humorous moments, but they're mostly delivered through deadpan humour; the show is somewhat on the "gritty" side, but isn't above a bit of levity, primarily through little character moments.

The show covers an interesting time period, too. It launched in an era before smartphones and ran until the mid-2010s. A lot of things changes about society in that period, in retrospect, and it's interesting to see the show reflect that. Quite a few early episodes of the show are about Redman's Detective Superintendent Pullman character having to fight to be taken seriously in a world that is still very much male-dominated — and particularly after her assignment to UCOS came after a botched raid in which she shot a dog — and there are frequent explorations of the challenges people with mental health concerns have to face in their daily life.

Of particular note in this regard is the character Brian "Memory" Lane, who is a recovering alcoholic and highly likely to be autistic. Some of the best character moments in the show come from an exploration of Brian struggling to deal with simply existing in a world that he doesn't quite feel comfortable in, and the unique challenges he faces considering his background and his daily struggles. He could easily have become a pathetic, tragic character, but the show handles him well and shows that people contending with the things he is dealing with still have something to offer society, and that they can often find great comfort from the love of people who support them unconditionally. His exit from the show, involving an extremely satisfying resolution to a plot thread that had been dangling for most of the series' run, was handled very well.

The exit of Redman's Pullman character was a little more sudden, however, and it was a little unsatisfying. It feels like she just sort of suddenly decided to move on, and her reasons for doing so just weren't really explored all that much; on top of that, I feel like it would be a much longer process for someone in the Metropolitan Police, particularly in a leadership position, to be able to move on, whereas she was pretty much just out the door and gone. Her replacement, Tamzin Outhwaite's Sasha Miller, seems like a solid character, though, and has already had some interesting things happening to her in just the two episodes I've seen her in so far.

Dennis Waterman's Gerry Standing, as the longest fixture in the series, is a great anchor point for the show. While his cheeky chappy Cockney act could have easily become a bit tiresome, he is shown throughout the series to be a character with some interesting depth and plenty of admirable qualities, even if he sometimes takes a somewhat laissez-faire approach to following the rules. Some of his interest comes from his three amicable divorces and the fact that all his ex-wives and children form one big extended family, but he also gets plenty of his own moments to shine.

The show isn't anything particularly revolutionary and I'm sure it's not regarded as a "classic" or anything, but it did successfully run for twelve series, which suggests it was doing something right along the way. I've enjoyed watching it so far, and I'm glad I took a chance on it; if you're after a detective show to spend some time with, you could do far worse.

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The post #oneaday Day 632: New Tricks appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Back in October of 2024, I wrote a post entitled "Are we fucked?" in which I was concerned about the direction the world appeared to be going. At the time, my main concern was with the growth of the AI space, and its seeming lack of any benefits whatsoever to humankind, while demonstrating its clear potential to cause very serious problems for both society and the environment.

That hasn't gone away. And neither has the other fear I expressed in that post: that, if Donald Trump would somehow, inexplicably, find himself in the White House once again, that America would become an unpleasant, unsafe place to be. In fact, things have ended up in that regard far worse than I think anyone could have imagined: a lawless "police" (and I use the term loosely) force gunning down innocent people in the streets; people being forced into utterly inhumane conditions having not committed a crime; the systematic revocation of a system of human rights we spent the best part of the last century putting in place, and which still had quite a bit of work to do.

Every day I look around at what the world has become and I am, honestly, scared. I feel like significant portions of the world have just gone completely insane.

Take the AI thing. AI is fucking everywhere now, despite it being abundantly clear that everyone except shareholders and C-Suite tossers hates it. It's making things worse. It's causing people's skills to atrophy at a frightening rate. It's destroying the environment. It's crashing the economy. It's making the Internet near-unusable in certain areas. And all for what? I couldn't tell you. All I can tell you is that the whole thing is a terrifying waste of money and resources, and I hope beyond hope that it will not be long until everyone wakes up and realises "what the fuck have we been doing?"

Except, at this point, with such a significant portion of the world's economy being propped up by this odious, utterly useless "industry", things coming crashing down are going to affect everyone — including those who have always been against this garbage. It's a financial disaster waiting to happen — and all the people who have spent the last few years completely discarding any practical skills in favour of "prompting" are going to be utterly screwed.

As many have pointed out, it's a symptom of a larger problem. The AI industry's dominance of things like the RAM and storage market are part of corporations' attempts to take away ownership of "The Computer" from individuals and force us all into "the cloud". Because if all we're using are dumb terminals to log on to the corporate cloud, that means the corporations can absolutely completely and utterly control what we can do. And everything that is wrong with politics and society right now can be laid at the feet of the few rich, corporate billionaires. Not coincidentally, pretty much all of them appear to have ties to legendary nonce Jeffrey Epstein.

I dunno man. I don't know how to deal with this any more. I'm scared for my future, and I'm scared for the world in general. I don't like it. This is not what "The Future" was supposed to be like. We had lots of cautionary tales telling us not to do all this shit — and yet we appear to have just gone and done it anyway.

The human beings with all the power absolutely suck, and they don't give a shit what all this is doing to regular-ass people, so long as it continues to make them more money than they will ever be able to spend in their lifetimes — money which will never, ever be spent on anything even vaguely approaching "the common good".

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The post #oneaday Day 622: Are we fucked? Revisited appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

It took me over four fucking hours to get here today due to traffic on the sodding M25, but I did at least have some entertaining listening material in the form of a couple of Fun Factor podcast episodes that I hadn't yet gotten around to. And I've said it before, and will probably say it again, but this show is a great listen for anyone who, like me, grew up with video game magazines in the '80s and '90s.

I had a Taco Bell on the way down, though, so that was nice. Taco Bell in this country doesn't generally make one want to shit one's pants, and it's a nice change from the usual service station fare. I have also got a bag of freeze-dried sweets, because I saw them in Morrisons and was curious. They're quite nice, but also a bit like eating polystyrene. I don't dislike the experience, but I probably won't be in a hurry to get another bag.

I have brought a companion with me this time. This is Geoff:

Geoff was hastily hand-made for me by my wife after I got her a Valentine's Day gift and she had forgotten what date it was. (I wasn't mad, I wasn't expecting anything in return — I just like buying gifts!) When I say hastily, I mean it — she bashed him out in just a couple of hours, which is seriously impressive, and she is a wonderful person I am lucky to have in my life.

Why Geoff? Because Andie thought his mouth looks like a moustache, and from that I thought he looked like our head of sixth form, Mr Watts, whose first name was Geoff. So he's Geoff.

Anyway, that's about all for today because I'm typing on my phone and I hate doing that. So that's all you get for now. Have a lovely evening!

The post #oneaday Day 620: It's that time again appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

For the unfamiliar, Cheez Whiz is not supposed to be that colour. It is supposed to be this colour:

The seller, "Black Cat Antiques and Art", has put their Unopened Vintage Super Mario Bros Kraft Cheez Whiz 1989 Glass Jar 7" Inches on eBay for a selling price of $174.99 Canadian (about $128.57) and has claimed the condition is "new", but in the description is a little more honest about things:

This is being sold as a Collectable Container!

I have not opened this jar, however the lid seal may not be intact as it appears to be popped up. Likely from 33 years of sitting on a shelf. (I have not noted a smell)

Would you trust something that is that colour to not register a smell, particularly if its rancidity had forced the little poppy thing on the jar lid to pop — something which is only supposed to happen when you actually open the thing?

It continues:

PLEASE, do not open on receipt.

1. Value will drop significantly

2. It won't taste good, and may cause significant medical issues including…. (Anything you can imagine)

3. It will likely smell bad, really really bad!

4. You may haves opened the last bottle in existence.

PLEASE, don't do it!

Number 1 and 4 are the things that interest me here. Black Cat Antiques and Art appears to think that having a glass jar in the shape of Mario that is full of Cheez Whiz so old it has turned the colour of chocolate spread is somehow worth $174.99 Canadian (or Best Offer) — and, moreover, appears to think that opening the jar to remove the biohazard within will hurt its value significantly.

Not only that, they appear to think that there is some sort of inherent value in keeping the contents intact, even though they also admit that it will probably make you very sick indeed.

I mean, come on, man, it's Cheez Whiz. The jar is vaguely interesting, but as a "collectable container" it's not especially useful or collectable if there's a chance that what's inside might be sentient and waiting to devour you in your sleep. (For reference, empty instances of the same jar are currently listed on eBay for anywhere between $25 and $55 Canadian — this was evidently a Canada-specific product)

"No, no, no, don't open it, you'll tank the value" is by no means uncommon in the collectors market. Hell, there are people out there who buy two of every Evercade release "to keep one sealed" for some reason. But this is perhaps the most baffling instance I have ever seen of it.

Who would want this? For anything other than a funny bit online, I mean. (There are, at the time of writing, a couple of folks deliberating over buying this for the funnies, including Dan Ryckert of Giant Bomb.) Like, I want to meet the sort of collector who thinks buying a jar of rancid Cheez Whiz for over a hundred dollars is somehow a good investment. And then I want to ask them, sincerely, why?

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The post #oneaday Day 616: When collecting goes too far appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

The above image has nothing to do with what I want to talk about today. Or maybe it does. I haven't decided yet, because I don't really know what I'm going to write about yet — despite having already started writing.

I have days like this, where I think "what should I blog about?" and nothing comes readily to mind. I've found the best approach when this happens, pretty consistently, is just to open a document, start typing and let random thoughts spill out onto the page. If they make sense, great. If they don't, you can look back on it as an entertaining stream of consciousness, perhaps providing a bit of insight into what might have been going through my mind at the time.

Today has been a funny old day. Not because of anything I've been directly involved with, really, but just people have been in a bit of a funny mood. Notably, a Discord server I'm part of, which primarily consists of middle-aged men who make YouTube videos about old tech and software (like me), had a big old tiff in its #general channel that was frankly kind of bewildering to see unfold. The main instigator has been "timed out" for a week, so I guess it remains to be seen whether or not he will be back — and if he is, if he will have changed his attitude at all.

Elsewhere, I was having a conversation with some friends in the Squadron of Shame Discord server, and it brought back to my mind the fact that I don't feel like I really remember my 30s all that much. There's a block of a good 10 years or so that is just sort of a dark spot in my memory. It hasn't gone completely, because if I think back over it I can remember bits and pieces — and if I look back at blog posts from that era, I get an even clearer reminder — so it's perhaps more accurate to say that period of time just sort of passed by in a blur without me really intending or wanting it to.

Some of that is down to a few mildly to moderately traumatic happenings I was dealing with in that period, all of which are now, thankfully, things of the past — though as anyone who has suffered trauma will know, just because the cause of said trauma is not present any more, it doesn't mean it stops affecting you. Part of my "lost decade" is almost certainly my brain telling me "don't go back there, there's nothing fun back there to remember" and I should probably listen to it.

But it wasn't all bad, and there are things I miss from back then. Seeing friends. Having friends. Going out and doing things. Not being the size and level of unfitness I am now. Not having a hernia. Having the passion and enthusiasm to write something on MoeGamer every day and make multiple videos a week.

A lot of things are better now, of course. I'm in a stable job that pays well, as is my wife Andie. We're getting our windows and doors done soon. I have a HeroQuest campaign on the go. I have a satisfyingly large game collection that will probably last me until the day I die. I am in control of, and proud of, the various websites that I have, at this point, held for many years. We have two wonderful cats (pictured).

And yet with the way the world is right now, it's hard to feel entirely happy, because there are so many things that are concerning about the short- to medium-term future. And it's difficult to escape from them. Impossible, in some cases. I fear for what the next few years hold, both in terms of things in my personal sphere, and more broadly about the world in general.

But right now, just this second, as I type this, things are All Right. So I should probably enjoy these moments of things being All Right while I can. So that's what I'm going to go and do now.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 615: No context cats appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I finally bit the bullet and upgraded my smartphone recently. The USB-C port in my trusty Samsung Galaxy S-something was being rather unreliable, and I was getting fed up with it. I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about upgrading, though, because every single phone on offer appeared to be festooned with unwanted "AI" features.

I plumped for the Samsung Galaxy S25 Ultra, because my provider had a good offer on it, and I thought I might as well take advantage of it. It's an absolute beast of a phone size and weight-wise, which I rather like — but one thing I didn't know about it before I got hold of it was the fact it comes with an "S-pen" stylus.

This makes me quite happy, because I have fond memories of using Palm personal organisers with a stylus and resistive touchscreen, and I've always felt using your sweaty, greasy fingers is suboptimal compared to the precision one can get from a stylus.

One mild annoyance I have discovered with the stylus is that MagSafe accessories interfere with it, so if you have something like a magnetic PopSocket on the back, it fucks with the stylus. This is irritating, but not an insurmountable obstacle; the thing with a MagSafe PopSocket is that it's a lot easier to remove and put back on again compared to an adhesive one, so it's relatively little hassle to just remove the PopSocket when I want to use the pen, then stick it back on afterwards. But I digress.

I thought today I'd experiment with using the pen to draw something using the mobile version of Clip Studio Paint. And the results are… well, a bit cack-handed, as you can see above, but I can definitely see potential there. I've learned something from this brief little doodle, which is that if you're sketching on a phone, for heaven's sake zoom in and do a little bit at a time rather than trying to do the whole thing at once.

Imprecisions aside, though, I was actually quite pleased with the S-pen's performance for doodling, and the mobile version of Clip Studio Paint seems quite good. It's an annoying subscription-based app, because of course it is, but you can use it for up to 30 hours a month for free without ads. I strongly suspect I won't hit that limit, but I guess we'll see! I will continue to experiment with both the S-pen and the tablet I got for Christmas, and see where things go from there.

The phone in general seems pretty good for the most part. The screen is lovely, the speakers are surprisingly good and the cameras are excellent. I just wish it didn't bug you to "do more with AI!" when attempting to do something simple like make a note. No, black rectangle of doom, I do not need you to "summarise" my notes. The very point of making notes is already a summary of what to think about later. Nor do I need you to turn a doodle into something that is not a doodle. Fuck off and leave me alone and we'll get along just fine.

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The post #oneaday Day 614: Can you hear us, sketching on your telephone appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

How did it get into this state, I hear you ask? Well, it's partly my fault, partly the fault of software. It's my fault because I didn't think to change the settings on various pieces of software, including the Google Drive and Photos apps for PC and my various phones' operating systems, and it's the software's fault for, by default, backing up images from every folder on my devices instead of just ones that make sense — like, you know, the camera roll. Lesson learned. Always check if your phone is "syncing" things you don't want it to!

In other words, what had happened is that, on numerous occasions, I had downloaded a dirty picture or ten that I found invigorating, and Google Photos had dutifully backed this up, despite me not actually wanting it to do that. So every so often, when scrolling back through the archives, I would inadvertently stumble across some absolute filth that probably shouldn't be in there. Nothing illegal, I should probably point out, but still not the sort of thing you want to accidentally appear on your screen when you're looking for a picture of your dearly departed cat or what your living room used to look like and attempting to show someone.

The most egregious offender actually wasn't explicitly offensive at all, but it was still taking up a lot of my library. Evidently at some point I had downloaded an archive of all the card art from the Senran Kagura mobile game — I wasn't going to play it, but I liked the art — and, again, Google Photos had dutifully backed this up despite me not actually wanting it to.

Unfortunately, the images from the Senran Kagura mobile game had all sorts of timestamps on them, so I would find them scattered randomly throughout actual photos I wanted to keep over the course of several years in my library's timeline. Towards the earlier years, there was a big lump of them all together though — it felt good to sweep all those into the trash.

I'm not doing this out of any sort of prudishness or anything — I still love some fine anime tiddies, after all — but more out of a desire to make Google Photos a bit more useful as an image archive, since there are myriad other options for getting one's hands on grotty pictures. It's already got a lot of screenshots in there as well as actual photographs, though I'm fine with that — it means that if I want to grab a screenshot of a game I played 10 years ago, I probably can — I just didn't want it full of images that I'd just downloaded for the sake of it. That includes silly memes and screengrabs of Twitter posts, also; any arguments those screenshots were intended to "win" are inevitably long gone, and life is too short to give a shit about what people I used to think were assholes are up to today. There's enough assholes in the present, thank you very much.

Anyway, I think I got most of the filth. I'm sure I will continue to find random little bits and pieces here and there, but at least now it will be more like a little treat and a surprise rather than "good Lord, most of 2016 appears to consist of anime women in provocative poses and Kirino from Oreimo with a massive cock".

That's it. That's the post for today. I'm off to play some Wolfenstein.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 612: Cleaning up the filth appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Anyway, that process is all done now, so things should hopefully return to normal — and there is now a bunch more Stuff for you to read on this site, should you feel so inclined. It's all conveniently categorised under the Patreon category — or, if you want to jump straight to the beginning of that particular "season" of #oneaday blogging, you can click here or use the link in the site menu.

The reason I wanted to bring that stuff across is because there was a lot more of it than I realised! I'd forgotten that I'd done another 1,000+ days of daily blogging as a Patrons-exclusive "perk" (if you can call it that), and having it all locked away in an unlaunched Patreon page seemed a bit wasteful. Not that I think I wrote anything of particular importance in those pages, mind.

No; the main reason I wanted to get those posts across is to fill a bit of a "gap" on this blog. There were a couple of years where I didn't really post anything on here because I was using Patreon instead, and that always bugged me a bit. Now, if you will be so good as to check the Archives section in the sidebar (it's right at the bottom of the page if you're on mobile), you'll see I now have a nice run of posts running from 2008 all the way up to today. Not all of that has been daily blogging and not every year has posts every month, even, but it is satisfying to look back over all that stuff and think "I did that".

Why did I do that? I don't really know, other than the fact I've always enjoyed it. There's just something about blogging about any old bullshit that I've always found immensely enjoyable; for me, it's always been much more fun to bash out a blog post than use social media, because you can go into as much detail as you want to hyperfixate on, and anyone who has a problem with that can just bally well bugger off because it's your site, dammit, and that means you make the gosh-darn-diddly rules.

The other reason I was interested to bring these posts over is because they cover the COVID years, and I think that was an important moment in history that we all lived through, for better or worse (mostly worse), and I'm interested to look back over what my brain was doing at that time.

Obligatory disclaimer: as I say, I have little to no memory of what I might have written during the Patreon years. I don't think I posted anything egregiously offensive — I still had to work within the rules of Patreon, after all — but I will say I can't guarantee I didn't say anything that 2026 Pete might regret in retrospect. But hey. If you're reading this, you've probably been with me through the exceedingly rough and the occasionally smooth, so little that dribbles out of my brain and onto the page will probably surprise you at this point. I just thought I'd mention that just in case, y'know.

Anyway, that is that. I hope you enjoy looking back through the archives — I'm certainly planning to — and normal business will now resume. Apologies again for flooding your inboxes!

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 610: Sorry again, and an explanation appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I read an interesting post that someone shared from Reddit earlier. You can read the full thing here.

The gist of the post is that the person in question has spent so much time and effort "optimising" their life, tracking everything from their water intake to the amount of time they spend on their morning routine, and have come to the conclusion that none of that has made them in any way happy. In fact, it has made them miserable and incapable of feeling joy in anything; worse, it has made them resent things that should be good, like having a pleasant date with a nice person or consoling a friend after a bad breakup.

I read this with interest because some of it sounded familiar. I've never gotten that deep into "optimising" my life, but over the last few years in particular, I have started to feel like it is undesirable to track everything about your life, record it in an app and obsess over numbers. This is a far cry from how I felt during the birth of the "gamification" craze, nearly 20 years ago.

In fact, I specifically recall being excited about the release of an iOS app called Epic Win, which basically positioned itself as a to-do list with experience points, allowing you to assign every job an XP value and a relevant stat, allowing you to "build a character" according to the things you'd been doing. When I eventually downloaded it, I found that it wasn't quite as fun as I thought it would be, but that didn't stop me from thinking that the "real world XP" thing was a good idea, hence my experimenting with the now-defunct Fitocracy, an app that gave you XP, levels and quests for going to the gym.

Now, about the only thing I track is my daily calorie intake, and that's because I'm specifically trying to lose weight. I'm not obsessing over the number of steps I take in a day, I'm not obsessing over "streaks" on anything except my underpants, I'm not obsessing over hydration. Because, as that Reddit post demonstrates, you can do too much of all that. If you project manage your entire life, then your entire life is going to feel like work. And that is not something that anyone should find desirable.

I mention this because I know on several occasions I have considered whether or not scheduling my days down to an extremely granular level would be beneficial. In some respects I feel like it probably still would be a good idea, as there are lots of things I would like to do but never make the time to do so. But then I feel like if you schedule things too much, you start to get resentful when things don't fit into neat two-hour blocks — because inevitably they won't, much as the Reddit poster discovered. And that's a sure-fire method to end up demotivated and bored with existence.

Much better to try and get yourself into solid habits in a natural-feeling, sustainable way. People have been doing that for thousands of years, so I refuse to believe that 20 years chained to our smartphones has completely removed humanity's capability to function independently without obsessing over statistics that relate to every little thing we do.

This is, in many ways, why I don't obsess over view counts on this blog, MoeGamer or my YouTube channel — it's not fun, and I'm not doing any of those things for a job, so I shouldn't treat them like one.

Your life doesn't need KPIs. I would argue that a lot of jobs don't need KPIs, either, but that's a whole other discussion, I feel…!

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 607: Ruined by the grindset appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

You'll forgive me for not having a lot of faith that these people will suffer any consequences whatsoever.

We live in a world where companies can just set fire to billions of dollars a year for a technology no-one wants, and where no amount of people going "please fuck off, please fuck off" will make them fuck off.

We live in a world where the President of the United States is demonstrably both an actual criminal and an incompetent fuckhead who shits himself in public, but nothing is done about either of these things — both of which, one would argue, should probably put him out of the running for being in charge of one of the most powerful nations on Earth.

We live in a world where the world's richest man proudly takes over what was once a good method of online communication and turns it into his own personal playground, where his antisemitic, CSAM-generating chatbot floods the world with disinformation and allows some truly vile examples of humanity to thrive. (At least, in this case, something is being attempted in response, though due to all of the other things I'm talking about today, I don't have much faith this will end in any other way than someone paying a lot of money to make it all just "go away".)

The world is dominated by rich people who are making existence for everyone except themselves objectively much, much worse. And I feel like they're going to get away with it. I know legal action takes time and money to come to fruition, and it's entirely possible that things are going on behind the scenes to bring some of these scumbags to some sort of justice, but I somehow doubt it at this point. I suspect what will happen is that some of them will get a slap on the wrist at most, and then maybe asked to pay some money that is a meaninglessly miniscule fraction of their total fortunes, and then we will all be expected to forget about everything.

As the quote frequently misattributed to Final Fantasy Tactics goes, "if the penalty for a crime is a fine, then that crime only exists for the lower class". It's true. If Elon Musk is made to pay even several million dollars by the French authorities for his CSAM-generating chatbot, it means nothing to him. Same for Donald Trump. Same for the myriad rich folks who engaged in barely literate email exchanges with Epstein about "partying" (and we know what that means, unfortunately) on his special paedo island, or how they were going to manipulate and fuck up the economy, politics, tolerance and inclusivity… the list goes on.

I'm open to being proved wrong on all this. But at the moment it feels like there simply isn't anyone to hold these rich fuckheads to account… aside from The People themselves. And, despite growing evidence that people in the States are willing to hit the streets when it really counts, I'm not sure The People have the motivation or the strength to be able to undo all this damage that's been done.

I hope one day we can look back on this period from a better place, and feel like we all learned something from it. After all, the world has recovered from terrible things before. But has anything ever really been quite like what we're dealing with right now…?

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 606: How evil is too evil? appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

That said, his conclusion — that, after a heart bypass and some independent projects he did without the crutch of Moir to rely on, he was able to properly "find his voice", such as it were — is fitting, and certainly seems in keeping with how much we've seen him by himself over the course of the last decade or so, rather than being "…And Mortimer".

Mortimer's decision to not construct the book as a simple "this is what happened in my life in roughly chronological order" was a solid one. With the initial chapters using a scare over his heart health — and the worry that his heart issues might bring a career he had grown to love to a screeching halt — as a framing device, we get a series of fun snapshots of Mortimer's life, both past and present, and really feel like we're being included in the varied scenes. Mortimer often addresses the reader and encourages them to go and explore certain things for themselves — there are several YouTube videos whose comments sections now largely consist of "Bob Mortimer sent me" now — and the whole thing feels like you're having a story told to you, rather than a "celebrity" on a throne talking down to you, the great unwashed public.

Many folks will likely be familiar with Mortimer's notoriously hilarious appearances on the beloved panel show Would I Lie To You? — and, indeed, many of the stories he tells (and the names featured therein) throughout And Away… will be familiar to those who have heard him spin a tangled tale on the show. Pocket meat, Steve Bytheway, Garry "The Sniper's Dream" Cheeseman, "we do beg your pardon, we are in your garden"… they're all here, and Mortimer admits in a couple of chapters that he's making some of this stuff up. But with the way he tells these stories, I could quite easily believe everything he's written in the book, because his tales are not only memorable for their surreal edge, but also for the fact that he has clearly taken something worthwhile and meaningful away from each and every one of them.

It's particularly heartwarming to hear his tales of how first seeing Vic Reeves' Big Night Out helped him to come out of his shell somewhat, gradually becoming part of the act and growing in confidence as he did so. His description of reaching a certain age and not really having the energy to maintain friendships — and being satisfied with that — also resonated somewhat, although not because I feel like I'm there myself. On the contrary, as I've mentioned on quite a few occasions in the relatively recent past, I've been going through a period where I really do feel exceedingly lonely at times, but I had also become exceedingly weary of feeling like I was the only one putting an effort in. So I guess maybe I was there, kind of. Ah well. Either way, reading Mortimer's reflections on it made me feel… a little better, maybe? I don't know.

Anyway, without getting too maudlin, I found the book very enjoyable. By turns hilarious and relatable, it is a pleasure to read, and confirms what I'm sure many of us have always suspected: that Bob Mortimer is simply a thoroughly nice, hilariously funny man — and one who, finally, is at peace with and comfortable with the person he's always been.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 605: Bob Mortimer's Pocket Meat appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

So, January has been coming to a close. How are things going?

Not all that bad, really. The only thing I've been lax on for Things I Wanted to Achieve In January is piano practice. I've been so tired and achey of an evening that I just want to zombie out, and sitting with proper posture at the piano has been the last thing on my mind. I am starting to feel a bit better, though, particularly with good progress in other regards, so I will try reintroducing that to my "routine" shortly, along with some more exercise.

The most notable progress so far has been on weight loss. Since I started sticking properly to the calorie plan, I've lost 10 pounds. This is good! Of course, there is still a lot more to go, but it's a good start, and proof that what I'm doing is working.

What's particularly good about what I'm doing is that I feel like I've found a plan that offers a good balance between me not feeling like I'm starving myself — which can end up with me just wanting to binge, which is counterproductive — and still allowing the weight to come off. I know, realistically speaking, that I can't expect 10 pounds to fall off every two weeks — the first weeks following a new plan are always the "easiest" for some reason — but as long as the general trend skews downwards over the medium to long term, I will be satisfied.

And the nice thing is that I'm by no means depriving myself of Nice Things. I had some digestive biscuits yesterday! I had some Cheez-Its at lunchtime! I might have a bacon sandwich for breakfast tomorrow! The important thing, as is probably obvious to the vast majority of people who are not My Size, is moderation. Eating a measured, weighed-out portion of Cheez-Its and taking the calories into account? Fine. Getting a whole big bag of Cheez-Its and eating all of them in a single sitting because I have no self-control in that scenario? Not fine.

It's easy to feel like a supposed "portion" of something is stingy, but in actual fact it can be quite surprising how satisfying a "portion" of something can be. To return to the Cheez-Its, a "portion" is 30g, which is actually quite a generous helping of them, and certainly not depressingly unsatisfying. The only thing I've found myself exceeding the "recommended" portion size on is sultana bran cereal; 30g of that really is stingy, and 40g is much more satisfying for not that many more calories, so that's where I've settled on that.

Of course, I've been here before, with Things Going Well for a couple of weeks and then just falling off at some point afterwards, usually with the flimsy justification of depression, tiredness, illness, frustration or any manner of other things. But right now I'm feeling pretty good about how things are going, and the possibility of being to maintain this over the longer term. So let's hope I can actually stick to that and see where things go from here.

I know I can do this. I've done it before. And it will make my life so much better if I can accomplish it again. So I will keep at it.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 601: January progress appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

Now, you know me. I know this. I have a living room whose walls are at least 85% video games. But I got rid of my whole CD collection when we moved into this place, because… well, there wasn't really room for it anywhere, and at that point, the digital future of music seemed pretty certain. Also the few quid I got for the collection by sending it to musicMagpie certainly helped.

One of the things I find myself getting hung up on is exactly what was in that CD collection. It has literally just occurred to me that I can probably just look at my musicMagpie account and see what I traded in 11 years ago, but that's much too easy. (EDIT: also, apparently I did not create an account when I traded all this shit in.) So I'm going to attempt to do it from memory, with explanations where necessary.

In no particular order other than as they come to me:

• Definitely Maybe (Oasis) – the first album I ever bought with my own money, after I learned about what modern music it was "cool" to like. Embarrassingly, I bought it literally the day before (What's the Story) Morning Glory? came out, which got me some ribbing, but not that much, because Definitely Maybe was still a decent album.
• (What's the Story) Morning Glory? (Oasis) – I actually don't think I bought this for myself, because I had it on cassette, not CD. I often considered buying it on CD but never quite got around to it because I always thought my money was probably better spent on something I didn't already have. I quite liked the tape version. It was easy to play in the car.
• Be Here Now (Oasis) – People seem to hate this one now. I thought it was good.
• Jagged Little Pill (Alanis Morissette) – I'm actually not sure why I bought this, because I had heard its greatest hits so many times on the local radio station the school bus always had on, and was thoroughly sick of them. But for some reason I did buy it — and I'm glad I did, because I ended up liking pretty much all the songs on it, particularly after reading along with the lyrics while listening. Fun fact: I'm pretty sure this album taught everyone in my friendship group and surrounding acquaintances what the term "going down on" meant.
• Blurring the Edges (Meredith Brooks) – After accepting that yes, I actually did quite like Alanis Morissette, I sought out some other "girls with guitars" albums. I became rather fond of this one. Not every track is a winner, but there are some great songs on here, with Bitch probably the most well-known of them.
• Left of the Middle (Natalie Imbruglia) – Not quite "girls with guitars", but sort of adjacent. I wasn't really thinking about that, though. I primarily bought this because several of us really fancied Natalie Imbruglia.
• Footprints (Holly Valance) – See above, with even more tenuous justification.
• Spice (The Spice Girls) – I have told this story before.
• Spiceworld (The Spice Girls) – I'm not sure that justifies this, though.
• Travelling Without Moving (Jamiroquai) – My best friends at school were super into Jamiroquai. It didn't take long for me to join them, subsequently adding Emergency on Planet Earth and Return of the Space Cowboy to my collection also.
• Essential Indie (Various) – A CD that came free with my Discman when I got one for Christmas or a birthday or something. My favourite track on it was Sick & Tired by The Cardigans, primarily for its unusual flute and bassoon backing.
• Essential Acid Jazz (Various) – A double CD that I picked up not long after getting into Jamiroquai. This was a varied selection of acid jazz weirdness, with only really one track by the Brand New Heavies being familiar. My friends and I all enjoyed this album a lot though, and a copy hastily recorded to tape was a fixture in my mum's car (which I often borrowed of an evening) throughout most of my time at sixth form. Favourite track was, without a doubt, Big Kahuna by Jeremy Bun, a track which my friends and I parodied in our brief incarnation as the sonicfunkstars shortly after we learned to use Sony's ACID Music. (Fun fact: my Xbox Live Gamertag is still sonicfunkstars, because I am not paying Microsoft money to change my fucking name.)
• The Lord of the Rings (Unknown) – The Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings movies came out while I was at university, and we all enjoyed them. I bought this album because it had a cool box with a nearly naked lady on it and it said The Lord of the Rings on it. I didn't mistake it for the official soundtrack or anything (which I also bought) — if I'm honest I primarily bought it because of the titty lady. When I got it home and opened it up I discovered that titty lady actually got them out in the sleeve notes. When I put the CD in the player, I discovered that the whole album was literally just noise. I have no idea what it was supposed to be or why. I was so ashamed of the purchase I actually threw it out. To date I haven't been able to rediscover exactly what this fucking weird CD was — as I'm sure you can imagine, tracking down something just called The Lord of the Rings is not easy — nor am I sure I want to, because I think it might have been haunted.
• Painkiller (Judas Priest) – My friend Owen, who I did teacher training with, introduced me to metal. A particular favourite of us both was this excellent album. On one memorable afternoon, in a chemically induced haze, we produced a spectacular Judas Priest remix using ACID Music. It helped distract from the horrors of the working day.

There's a bunch of compilations also — including Shine 7 and 8, which I talked about here — but those are most of the ones I can remember without taxing my memory too hard. I know there were a lot more than that. And now I really want to know what happened to that receipt for all the CDs I traded in 11 years ago. It must be somewhere!

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The post #oneaday Day 600: My CD shelf appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

I went to the doctor today. My knee has been playing up for a while, and got particularly bad over the Christmas break when it was especially cold. I suspected it was little more than my knee going "you're too heavy, sort it out", but I just wanted to confirm that it wasn't anything more serious. (It wasn't. I am too heavy and need to sort it out.)

I came away from the appointment feeling oddly invigorated, though. I'd ended up being there for about half an hour in total, approximately two minutes of which were spent actually examining me. But my doctor apparently wanted to talk today. And I was happy to let him.

It started with a rant about politicians. I'd come to him as a result of one of those "e-consult" things because my surgery is apparently incapable of activating their online appointments system, and I hate doing the 8am rush to phone for an appointment. My doctor apparently doesn't think all that much of the e-consult system — I don't either, as it happens, but it seemed like the most reliable method of getting at the very least a call back without having to sit on hold on the phone for hours — and expressed some considerable frustration at how government guidelines have given him "quotas" of routine and emergency appointments to fulfil.

Now, I'm sure we're all familiar with the technique of requesting an "urgent" appointment for something that is absolutely not an emergency, and I suspect it's that sort of behaviour that has led to these quotas. But I was more than happy to let him go off on one about how politicians had no idea what it was like for actual surgery staff, particularly now that the practice he works at, originally intended for no more than 9,000 patients in total, is now serving more than 16,000 people, with more registering by the week, it seems.

After examining my knee and telling me I'm fat (in a more polite way than that, and he was apologetic about it) he then told me about his own personal history dealing with weight loss, a genetic predisposition towards being on the larger side, exercise and suchlike. It was an interesting conversation, even if it was a tad one-sided — like I say, the poor chap clearly wanted to talk to someone about absolutely fucking anything, and I was more than happy to let him. Although he was clearly frustrated about things, he's also a nice, friendly chap, and I know very well how helpful it can be to just have someone who is willing to listen sometimes.

So, all told, I have a feeling that my doctor may have got more out of my appointment today than I did. Still, it was reassuring to know that there's not actually anything wrong with my knee — I just need to lose some weight. And I'm working on that! It's been nearly a full week on the diet plan now, and it's been going pretty solidly so far. Let's hope that leads to some actual, tangible results.

And Dr. W? I hope you feel better soon. I know all too well how frustrating government interference in your profession can be from my time as a teacher, so you have my sympathies. I wish I could reassure you that things will get better from hereon, but… well, you can see the state of the world right now. Hang in there. You provide a vital service to the community, and I hope you know how much people like me appreciate your work.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 595: A nice chat with my doctor appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

In the last few weeks in particular, I've found that there are a lot more people seemingly trying to push AI as "sort of all right, really". You know the sort of thing, people just casually, jokingly drop into a Discord chat that "out of curiosity, [they] threw it into Gemini to see what would happen" and before you know it, all meaningful human conversation has been replaced with copy-pasted obsequious fawning over the prompter, bold-type section headers and bullet-pointed lists.

Not only that, but the press are at it, too; just today, Undark Magazine (which I've never heard of prior to today) posted a piece called "Abstinence from AI is Not the Answer", in which the authors, C. Brandon Ogbunu and Cristopher Moore, make the baffling assertion that refusing to engage with AI "puts vulnerable people at risk".

"Like many new technologies," they write, "AI can either amplify inequality or ameliorate it, depending on how it is deployed. And fears about the likelihood of it amplifying stratification and segregation are valid. But advocating for abstinence will deny communities access to the tools the privileged are already using to help them write college essays, do their homework problems and learn a second language. Puritanical stances leave people ill-equipped to use this technology responsibly and unable to benefit from it."

Okay, but… hear me out… generative AI is terrible at all of those things. AI writing can be spotted a mile off. It gets answers to basic problems wrong, making it useless for homework. Due to its propensity to hallucinate and fawn over the user, you can't necessarily guarantee that its use of a non-English language is correct, nor that it will correct you if you get something wrong. And, more importantly than all of those things, relying on generative AI to do any of those things strips you of the ability to do them yourself. Not only that, it kills your curiosity to learn and discover new things for yourself, because it's much easier to just ask the chatbot to do it for you rather than to put in the work to learn a new skill yourself.

It's this latter part that really concerns me about generative AI. I've seen so many people willingly hand off to a chatbot during normal discussions and arguments and think that's a shortcut to "winning". When our legal and medical professionals are caught using these unflinchingly awful tools, their own skills and knowledge atrophy because they have no need to retain them — the chatbot will do all the hard work for them.

And what happens when, as looks increasingly likely, the money runs out and all these monumentally wasteful services are no longer able to operate? We're going to need humans who can actually do stuff again. And I'm concerned we're going to struggle to find them, because just over the course of the last couple of years I've seen a frightening amount of people completely give up on seeking out reliable information, knowledge and training for themselves because they can just ask the chatbot.

To address Ogbunu and Moore's main point — that abstinence from generative AI puts vulnerable people at risk — I say, full-throatedly, bollocks. The Internet has been a constant presence in all our lives — whether we're privileged or vulnerable — for decades at this point, to such a degree that it is considered one of the basic utilities these days. It is rammed full of helpful, thoughtful, weird and wonderful information, and the only skill one needs to cultivate in order to take advantage of this is how to determine whether or not something is a reputable source. That is something that we learn to do in school — or we should learn how to do, anyway.

If you hand that job over to a chatbot which is demonstrably wrong a statistically significant amount of times you ask it a question, you are not making use of that skill. That is not democratising the delivery of information; it is filtering all that information through a technology that, at its core, has been designed only with the interests of its billionaire owners in mind. And not only that, to get the supposed "best" out of these chatbots, you're expected to pony up $200 or more a month for a subscription. That doesn't sound very inclusive to the most vulnerable of society.

"Choices we make now will determine whether AI will be a tool for the powerful, dazzling the rest of us with its hype and subjecting us to its harms, or whether it will be a tool — imperfect but useful — in everyone's hands," conclude Ogbunu and Moore.

If it's an imperfect tool, it's not useful. I repeat: I do not use it; I do not need to use it; I do not want to use it. My choice is made; if I see anyone "powerful" using generative AI, I will laugh at them, because they are depriving themselves of the joy of thinking, of learning, of discovering, of creating. And then I will pity them.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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The post #oneaday Day 592: Abstinence from AI appeared first on I'm Not Doctor Who.

One of the reasons a lot of people — including myself — find it difficult to stick to a diet is because so much "healthy eating" advice out there is seemingly designed to suck all of the joy out of anything to do with food.

I read a particularly good (bad?) example of this on BBC Food earlier, after it was linked to from the front page of BBC News. "Are we getting breakfast all wrong?" the headline asked. "How much does it matter what we eat in the morning and when we eat it?"

Having read the article a few times, I'm not entirely sure what its actual point is, because there seem to be multiple threads running at once. Firstly is the fact that here in the UK, we tend to be quite set in our ways when it comes to breakfast, while in other cultures they tend to eat "leftovers or [food] similar to [that which] you would have for lunch and dinner", according to NHS GP and chef Rupy Aujla. Then there's the question of when you should eat breakfast, for which the advice seems to be "whenever the fuck you want, or miss it completely and have a decent lunch if you feel like it".

Then there's the usual health scares — people who eat breakfast are "also found to be likely to smoke more, drink more alcohol and exercise less", while there is apparently "convincing evidence that consuming breakfast, compared to skipping breakfast, has positive impacts on short-term cognition and memory". So if you have breakfast, you'll spark up a fag and get pissed while lounging on the sofa, but at least you'll remember all of it the next day.

At one point the piece attempts to convince us that "a breakfast of tomatoes, mushrooms, baked beans and a glass of juice" is a "fry-up" and repeats the bizarre advice that "no matter how much [juice] you drink it will still only count as one portion", then goes on to shame the juice-drinkers because "fruit juice is basically as sugary as a typical candy bar". The piece then advises that we should "use an (environmentally friendly) straw to bypass your teeth" if you are drinking juice, but, of course, says that we should all just drink water because it's "a healthy and cheap choice" that "has no calories and contains no sugars that can damage teeth".

I get why all these things are said. We do all eat too much and do terrible things to our health, but the solution to having issues with food is not to make eating a joyless chore, because in my experience all that does to you is increase cravings for things you "shouldn't" have. And in the worst cases, that can lead to bingeing way more than you would have under normal circumstances.

As with anything, the real answer seems to be moderation. It is difficult to keep cravings under control, particularly if your brain chemistry is particularly prone to taking things to excess, but so far as I'm concerned, far better to have a good, solid breakfast that fills you up and makes you feel good first thing in the morning than a handful of nuts, berries and wood chippings that will have you reaching for the crisps and Penguin bars by 10am.

As for me, today I've eaten pretty much what I want and I still have a bunch of calories left over if I fancy something a little later in the evening. And that has happened because I have taken care with moderation in what I've eaten so far today. I don't feel deprived of anything and I don't feel like I "need" to demolish a packet of biscuits, say — but at the same time, I also know that if I do fancy a biscuit or a cake or something, I have enough calories left in the budget that I can have one if I want.