2322: Lore of the Land

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(This should have posted yesterday but didn’t, for some reason. Apologies!)

I love lore. I absolutely love it when something I’m enjoying has that feeling that the entire world in which it’s set has been thought out and planned, even if 90% of the material is never seen within the work itself.

This is particularly brought to mind at the moment due to Overwatch, which has some absolutely fantastic superhero-style backstories for all its characters, with Pixar-quality animated shorts and comics putting a significant number of the characters in a lot more context than the game itself offers.

But there are some other particularly good examples I’ve experienced over the years, too.

One that springs to mind immediately is the visual novel-cum-strategy RPG hybrid Aselia the Eternal, which has some extraordinarily detailed writing throughout that means even though you never get to “explore” the world freely, you have a very strong sense of time, place and social norms. In the early hours of the game, you even start to get a feel for this strange other world’s unique language — and indeed, for a significant portion of the game, the voice acting is not in Japanese, but rather in this fictional language.

Another good example is the Senran Kagura series, which always has the strong feeling that there is a lot going on outside the stories of the central characters the games focus on. I predict that as the series continues to grow over time, we’ll start to see more and more of the broader context in which these young shinobi girls are fighting — we’ve already finally started confronting the terrifying youma in Senran Kagura 2: Deep Crimson.

And then, of course, there’s Final Fantasy XIV, which has lore so detailed that they have a staffer specifically hired to ensure that the lore stays consistent and can be explained in great detail to those who want to know more. Indeed, the Lore subsection of the official Final Fantasy XIV forums is one of the most interesting parts of the website, as it includes all manner of things about the game you may not have otherwise seen unless you specifically went looking for it.

Lore also leads to people coming up with their own theories about what is going on. I enjoy doing this myself and indeed have indulged in it publicly on occasion, but I also really love reading other people’s thoughts on things. I remember reading an extraordinarily detailed account of the metaphorical depictions throughout the Silent Hill series, for example, and being absolutely enraptured.

For me, lore makes things better. It gives things meaning and context. It can even give things that seem to have no real “story” as such — Overwatch is a good example, being a multiplayer shooter — a sense of narrative. And for me, in games at least, it’s often the difference between a game feeling like a cynical “product” or clearly coming across as a creative work of art, filled with the passion of its designers.

So more lore, please. And, on a side note, familiarising myself with much of the Overwatch lore over the last evening has made me very interested to see how Blizzard plans to develop the game over time.

2321: Treading the Boards

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Watching popular British topical panel show Mock the Week, which has an inexplicably large number of episodes available on Netflix — peculiar to me due to the topical, timely nature of it, not because of any particular lack of quality — reminds me somewhat of one of my favourite activities at university: participating in the university Theatre Group.

We did all manner of things as part of the Theatre Group. We put on plays, of which I was in several, including Macbeth (which we rather edgily revamped to make it look like The Matrix, like no-one had ever done that before), Ivan Turgenev’s A Month in the Country (which we took to Edinburgh, only to discover that the Edinburgh Fringe audience wasn’t as receptive to tragic Russian love stories as we would have liked) and Alan Ayckbourn’s Round and Round the Garden from the Norman Conquests cycle (which we also took to Edinburgh and discovered that the Edinburgh Fringe audience was a lot more receptive to Alan Ayckbourn).

I also directed an entertainingly chaotic production of Twelfth Night after my co-director sent me an email one morning informing me that she would be late back to university at the start of the spring term because she’d decided to go skiing, and would I mind awfully directing the show by myself because she didn’t want to? (That production gave me more nosebleeds than I’ve ever had in my life, but it was one of the most memorable experiences of my university career, in a good way.

We also threw great parties, usually (but not always) after a production, and had a regular night out at local grotty (but cheap) club Kaos. But the thing that I miss the most, I think — and the thing I’m reminded of when watching shows like Mock the Week and Whose Line is it Anyway? — is the regular improvisation sessions we had just prior to the regular nights out at local grotty (but cheap) club Kaos.

The improvisation sessions grew out of the warm-up activities that had become a Theatre Group tradition when starting rehearsals. These tended to be simple but fun activities that could double as drinking games in a pinch, but were often also designed to get our minds warmed up as well as our bodies and voices, and so quite often incorporated improvisation of various types.

Theatrical improvisation games are a lot of fun if you let yourself get drawn into the experience. This is something I always enjoyed about acting ever since secondary school Drama lessons: getting swept up in a role and feeling like you really were, just for a moment, someone else. And in improvisation you’re not confined by a script: you can take things to some very strange places indeed.

In fact, these improvisations eventually grew into a semi-regular improvisation-based show that the Theatre Group put on called Count Rompula’s Showcase. When you showed up to a Count Rompula’s, you never quite knew what you were going to get. On one particularly memorable occasion, the audience was subjected to The Web of Dan, a rather avant-garde piece that the eponymous Dan and some of his friends had joked about in rehearsals for other shows. I wasn’t directly involved with this eventual production, though I was at least present for the genesis of the idea in the rehearsals.

I miss those days a great deal. I’m occasionally reminded of them when we play Final Fantasy XIV, usually on patch day, and devolve into a series of cringeworthy puns based on the environment and enemies we’re fighting in a new dungeon. (The introduction of the icy dungeon Snowcloak was particularly good for this, as you can imagine.) But nothing will quite match the magic of those days when we sat in a circle, miming the action the previous person had said while saying a completely different action we wanted the next person to perform. Or performing scenes based on silly props. Or, indeed, playing Deutsche Erotika, which sadly is not quite as entertaining as its name might suggest.

2307: The Trip

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When I can’t sleep or am otherwise in a position where I am too mentally impaired to do anything active — in other words, all I want to do is stare dumbly at a screen — rather than, as some people do, put the TV on and just watch it, even if I’m not interested in what’s on, I like to trawl Netflix for things I’ve never seen and haven’t even heard of before, but which sound interesting.

I’ve discovered a bunch of interesting things this way, the last of which was the rather wonderful (if cringeworthy) W1A, and more recently I’ve been watching a show called The Trip, starring Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon.

The Trip is an interesting concept that builds on the fashionable “fake docudrama” trend that began with The Office. Casting Coogan and Brydon as fictionalised, exaggerated versions of themselves, the series follows them as they take a tour of the North of England, stopping at some of the supposed best restaurants in the region with a mind to writing an article for The Observer Magazine. Coogan’s original plan for the trip was to take it as a romantic getaway with his American girlfriend Misha, and still be able to use it as paying work, but prior to the start of the series, she moves back to the States to pursue her own career dreams in Hollywood, leaving Coogan more distraught and lonely than he’d care to admit, only inviting Brydon seemingly as a last resort.

The pair’s trip across the North is largely irrelevant to the main point of the show, though it does take in some of Northern England’s most spectacular sights, a number of which I hadn’t heard of before. Instead, the main aspect of the show is the relationship between Brydon and Coogan, and more specifically how Brydon’s easygoing nature and sense of contentment with his life — even as he is, according to Coogan’s standards, less successful than his friend — gradually draws out Coogan’s true feelings about his situation.

Brydon lives in a small but comfortable family home with his wife and children; Coogan lives in a fancy apartment in London by himself now that Misha is gone. Brydon enjoys his life and calls his wife just to hear her voice, flirt with her and occasionally get a bit down and dirty with her; Coogan calls Misha in the States, sometimes forgetting the timezone difference, sometimes not respecting what she wants, perpetually unusure of what he wants. Brydon brings a sense of levity to any situation he’s in, often filling uncomfortable silences with his (admittedly impressive) impersonations of famous people — something which Coogan is forever frustrated that he’s just not quite as good at as Brydon; Coogan takes everything much too seriously, sometimes admonishing Brydon for his happy-go-lucky approach to life, sometimes clearly wanting to say what’s really on his mind and on one — only one — occasion frustrating a for-once quiet Brydon, who just wants to enjoy the scenery, with a lengthy geological explanation of how the Malham Cove limestone pavement came to be.

The contrast between Coogan and Brydon is potent; it shows two ways you can approach modern life. You can follow Brydon’s path, which is arguably the most traditional, straightforward, unambitious path, and enjoy a happy, contented life while never quite attaining true dizzy heights of, say, stardom or being the top of your field. Or you can follow Coogan’s path, which is a much more significant gamble: throw everything you have into trying to be the best in your field that you can be, and run the risk of being frustrated that other people can’t see what you know about yourself. Coogan’s frustration — outright depression, at times — at his situation is downright heartbreaking; his gamble hasn’t at all paid off, though he does have the opportunity to make one final one by moving to the States with Misha to do a pilot TV show for HBO. By the end of the first season, however, Brydon has clearly rubbed off on him: after what is clearly an agonising session of soul-searching, he decides not to take that gamble, and instead — presumably — to focus on making himself happy rather than continually being let down by his life and the people he thought he cared about.

The Trip is a funny show; it’s a comedy at heart, and the interactions between Brydon and Coogan are well-written, snappy and genuinely amusing. But there are considerably more tragic undertones with Coogan’s own personal journey as the titular trip continues. While Coogan comes across as an arrogant dickhead at the start of the show — and still bears this character trait to a certain extent at the end — as the episodes proceed and we get an occasional glimpse into what he’s really thinking and feeling, it’s hard not to feel bad for him, and the contrast between how his and Brydon’s respective lives have turned out is certainly thought-provoking.

I haven’t yet watched the second season, but on the strength of the first, I’m very interested to. If you like well-written, fairly gentle, character-driven comedy drama with more than a slight tinge of pathos — as many other good comedies have — then The Trip is well worth your time to take on.

2306: Happy Birthday, Discord

Back in the early days of “going online” — after the days of Bulletin Board Systems but before the widespread Internet we know today — our family used CompuServe to get at information online.

For a teenager like I was at the time, it was very exciting. For the first time, I was able to “meet” and communicate with people from all over the world, discuss common interests and even exchange files.

One of my favourite features of CompuServe was an area it rather grandiosely referred to as the “CB Simulator”, after the units used by ham radio operators to communicate with other enthusiasts over the radio waves. In reality, it was simply what we now know today as a chatroom, but it was a revelation to the young me, who had always had a bit of difficulty finding new people to talk to, particularly those who were into the same things.

In the CB Simulator, I could talk to people without fear of them, say, judging me for my appearance, or my mannerisms that clearly indicated I was uncomfortable with talking to strangers, or how I tended to go the colour of beetroot when talking to girls I liked. No; in the CB Simulator, I was able to communicate in the way I had always felt most comfortable: through the written word.

A few years later, when “the Internet” started to become more of a thing and self-contained, fenced-off communities like CompuServe and AOL were starting to become less of a thing, I looked into Internet Relay Chat, or IRC. There, I found a similar experience to that which I’d had in CompuServe’s CB Simulator: the ability to communicate and express myself through text to people from all over the world. And now, I could “emote” too, which in turn led to my first experiences with online roleplaying through a group that “simulated” Star Trek missions through text chat.

I was kind of sad when chatrooms fell out of favour with the rise of what we now know as social media, but for those of you, like me, who always used to enjoy the real-time nature of talking in chatrooms, may I introduce you to the wonderful service that is Discord, which is now celebrating its first birthday.

Originally designed as a free, lightweight alternative to Skype and Teamspeak, Discord has been actively developed over the last year to become one of the best — arguably the best — real-time chat application out there, particularly if you’re a gamer.

For the unfamiliar, it works in a slightly different way to instant messaging services such as Skype and its earlier counterparts AIM, MSN and Yahoo Messenger. Instead of focusing on private chats with individuals on your friends list, Discord is instead server-based, much like IRC was. Within that server — again like IRC — there are channels for whatever purposes the server admins desire. Anyone who is a member of that server — and servers can be public or private — can hop in to a channel and text chat. There’s voice chat facilities, too, which have very good, reliable, clear voice quality and connections, making it an ideal solution for “party chat” on PC, or even using alongside games that don’t normally offer voice communication: the Splatoon community, for example, use it quite a bit, since that game has no means of direct communication whatsoever.

Mostly the thing that excites me about Discord is how much it feels like those old IRC servers, only with a more modern coat of paint. Inline image posts, markdown formatting, animated GIFs and link previews are all a natural evolution of the purely text-based chat that IRC offered, and Discord’s cross-platform nature — it works via the Web, on PC or Mac desktop clients or even on mobile — makes it an ideal means for keeping in touch with groups of friends or specialised communities.

I’m very happy that Discord has been such a success since it originally launched, and hope it continues to be A Thing for many years to come yet. It’s been a great way for me to interact with friends from elsewhere on the Internet in new, more immediate ways than services like Twitter offer, and, depending on the server, it can be a nice quiet safe haven away from the noise of more public social media channels.

I’m a member of several different Discord servers, but the one on which I’m most active is probably the one I’m an admin of. If you’d like to stop by and say hi — the server is largely focused on video games, anime, lewds and general shitposting, but everyone there is just happy to have a good chinwag — then you can do so by following this link.

Happy birthday, Discord, and happy chatting to those of you who choose to come and join us!

2302: By the Power of the Virtues

There’s a new-ish trend on social media. And like most new-ish trends on social media, it’s not a particularly pleasant one.

Known as “virtue signalling”, it essentially involves people making public statements that make it abundantly clear that they hold what is widely regarded to be the “correct” viewpoint on something, be this feminism, homosexuality, Donald Trump, immigration, unisex bathrooms, whether or not we should leave Europe, gun control and whether or not Uncharted 4 deserved more than an 8.8 out of 10.

It’s an offshoot of a couple of other social media behaviours that have been happening for a while, most notably Twitter’s “dot-reply” practice, which gets around Twitter’s usual behaviour of not showing people you follow replying to people you don’t follow (because why would you want to “listen in” on a conversation involving someone you don’t know?), and the related practice of people complaining at companies on Twitter without putting the company in question’s user ID in an @mention at the start of the tweet. “Hey, @amazon, your customer service today was shocking!” — you know, that sort of thing.

Both of these practices — and virtue signalling too, for that matter — are a means of amplifying one’s own voice and trying to get noticed. Typically, social media consists of lots of people on a reasonably equal footing all shouting into the void and occasionally having conversations with one another. When you bring in dot-replies, public replies and virtue signalling, however, it becomes less about your actual message and more about public perception of you. When you engage in any of these behaviours, you’re trying your very best to get your message heard and, crucially, reshared by as many people as possible. In that way, the word can spread about What A Fine Example of Humanity you are, and you can subsequently reap the social capital rewards from successfully Saying the Right Thing in Front of the Right People.

Taking a public stand on things isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But unfortunately, the very nature of social media has a habit of distorting messages beyond recognition, and when combined with such transparent attempts to spread your message as far and wide as possible as what we’ve just described, the global game of Chinese Whispers kicks into overdrive and your message — which may well have been flawed in the first place, or perhaps just misinterpreted somewhere along the line — gets taken at face value, for better or worse.

And people these days simply do not question the things that are presented to them. This is particularly bad on Facebook, where many people — particularly those less Web-literate — will happily share completely untrue stories without bothering to check the validity of them, and their friends, equally Web-illiterate, will share them further, until they’ve been around the world and back, with a significant number of people believing the load of old bollocks that some troll from 4chan probably dreamed up in an attempt to see how many idiots he could net.

It happens on Twitter, too, though, and through the media as well. A recent example came via the subreddit for Ubisoft’s multiplayer shooter The Division, where a user made up a completely false glitch-based strategy for one of the bosses, and said “cheat” was picked up by numerous high-profile gaming websites without bothering to check whether or not it was legitimate for themselves. (It would have been easy enough to do so, given that the user in question actually posted another thread on Reddit at the same time with a legitimate strategy for the same encounter, admitting that his “glitch” was a complete fabrication.)

And this lack of questioning or critical thinking is poisonous when it’s combined with virtue signalling. Opinions that someone made up become accepted as irrefutable fact simply because someone “important” shared them, or lots of people shared them. Take the Ghostbusters reboot trailer, for example — now famous for being the most disliked YouTube video in the site’s history. The story runs now that it is the most hated video in existence “because of misogyny” — and there’s simply no arguing with that, because so many people have made loud, proud statements about how they’re going to give Ghostbusters a chance because they’re not misogynist at all, no sirree, and that means that anyone who simply thinks the trailer is shit (it kinda is) gets thrown under the bus with the genuine misogynists and the trolls who enjoy stirring the pot for the hell of it.

Generally speaking, I tend to take the attitude that if you have to shout loudly about what a wonderful person you are, you probably aren’t a particularly wonderful person in the first place. So far I’m yet to be proven wrong with this theory.

2300: Buried Treasure

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Andie and I were both feeling a bit sorry for ourselves earlier (well, emphasis on me, somewhat; recent life has been getting me down a bit. All right, a lot.) so we decided to go out and do something together rather than sitting at opposite ends of the house playing computer games and not talking to each other.

Andie’s sister Michelle had taken her Geocaching a while back, so she suggested we give it a try. Geocaching is something I’ve been meaning to try for a while but never got around to; it’s also something that, I feel, is more fun with other people in tow, as you can put your heads together to solve problems then.

For the unfamiliar, Geocaching is a sort of real-world game that you play using a GPS-equipped phone, a pen and possibly some digging implements, tweezers and bramble-proof clothing. Hidden caches are marked on your map; you have to find them. Whoever hid the cache leaves a description, a hint and perhaps a hint photo to help you find them, then when you find it you open it, write your name and the date on the bit of paper inside it, log it on the website or phone app, then put it back so someone else can find it at a later date.

That’s about it for the basics, really. There are different types of caches, including those that you’re only “allowed” to register if you’ve fulfilled certain conditions beforehand, and those that hide their final location behind a series of riddles, but yes; the basic formula is go to place, find thing, log thing, put thing back.

What I find interesting (and pleasing) about the whole thing is that it’s all built on trust, and people appear to stick to this honour system. I don’t see any trolling on the cache pages, and I don’t see any evidence of people deliberately and maliciously moving or hiding caches somewhere other than where they’re supposed to be — both things I would have thought would be a risk with this sort of activity. But, at least in my local area, I haven’t seen anything like that so far, though admittedly I’ve been out on just one excursion so far.

I think part of the reason that there’s no trolling involved is that, despite technically being a “game” of sorts, Geocaching has very little in the way of actual “gamification”, to use the buzzword that was popular a few years back. In other words, there’s no scoring points, no earning experience, no levelling up, no badges — just a simple count of how many caches you’ve found and a map that gradually fills up with smiley faces as you successfully find the hidden goodies secreted at the various locations around your area — or indeed the area that you happen to be in, since one of the fun things about it is that you don’t have to limit yourself to the local area, and can instead participate in it as an activity wherever you happen to be, assuming there are some caches hidden nearby.

It was a fun afternoon, then, and a pleasant way to spend a Saturday in the sunshine — though after all the walking we did we were both more than ready for a long sit down by the time we finished. I’m looking forward to giving it another try in the near future; there are still lots to find around Southampton, and I bet there’s a whole bunch out in the New Forest, too…

2292: Thirty-Five

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It was my birthday today; I am now thirty-five years of age, which means on some forms I’m officially in the next age bracket. If ever there were a more obvious marker of our respective mutual creeping towards the grave, it is surely moving down through the age ranges on official forms. I’m not sure if this means I count as “middle-aged” or not yet and honestly I don’t really care all that much; age has always just been a number to me, and, for better or worse, I’ve always preferred to act the age I feel rather than the age I am.

It was a pleasantly quiet day today — something much-needed for both my wife Andie and me after numerous recent stressors. We had a lazy morning, Andie made a “mug cake” in the microwave for me (delicious), and then we went out to our local Japanese eatery Zen for some sushi and deep-fried goods (also delicious). The remainder of the day has been spent writing an article about Senran Kagura’s art and soundtrack, playing Final Fantasy X HD and, as a lazy post-dinner activity, a spot of Dead or Alive Xtreme 3.

I’m probably supposed to reflect on where I’ve come from and where I’m going on such a momentous occasion as my age going up by one. Right now that’s a fairly depressing prospect, though, to be honest, so I’m going to refrain from going too much into that. Let’s just say that things haven’t been great, but plans are in motion to make life a little better, even if it takes a while to bring them to fruition.

For now, I’m pursuing home-based work so I can be with my wife while she’s off work with her chronic pain condition; hopefully this will provide enough of an income to at least survive on, if not live a particularly exciting life, but then I never really lived much of an exciting life anyway, with the most exciting things I tend to buy being either video or board games. With that in mind, please do get in touch if you have any (paying!) writing work that I might be able to do from home — or if you’d like to support me directly, please consider making a pledge to my Patreon, which was set up with a mind to making my work on MoeGamer a bit more regular and in-depth.

You may ponder why I don’t pursue writing gigs in the games press any more. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind that, though the way I’ve been treated in the past has somewhat soured me on the business as a whole — plus there’s the fact that the mainstream games press (i.e. the ones that pay) all still have the “feminism” stick firmly jammed up their collective asses which, far from promoting the amorphous concept of “diversity” as they’d like to think, actually just stifles criticism from a variety of perspectives, not to mention thoughtful, meaningful exploration of games on the more provocative end of the spectrum. And as my good friend Chris was kind enough to say the other day, I’m better at writing about games than 1,200 word reviews talking about how nice the graphics are and whether or not there’s any screen tearing, or 500-word news pieces on industry Twitter spats and inevitably fake rumours about new Nintendo hardware.

MoeGamer, as it stands, is an experiment in sustained long-form writing on very specific topics in games, and if this proves to be worthwhile I’ll consider expanding the project into perhaps putting together a book or two. That would be exciting. As longstanding readers well know, I firmly believe that there’s an absolute ton of scope for thoughtful, interesting, meaningful analysis of games beyond what the current clickbait model of games journalism focuses on, and longform articles not beholden to advertisers or honest-to-goodness books are clearly the way to go for this sort of thing.

Other people out there are already doing this sort of thing; Boss Fight Books is a particularly interesting project, though it takes a somewhat scattershot approach to which games are noteworthy for one reason or another, and many (though not all, thankfully) of the authors involved are members of “the clique” of games writers and developers that has made viewpoints that deviate from the standard (and fallacious) “everything is sexist and gamers are awful people” rather unwelcome. In other words, I don’t see them publishing a book exploring the satire of Hyperdimension Neptunia or the meaning carried in the sexual content of The Fruit of Grisaia any time soon.

Basically, now I’ve made the decision to, at least for the immediate future, stay at home for work, I can start looking at ways to 1) pin down a reasonably secure monthly income and 2) start pursuing passion projects in earnest. Because for all the noble intentions in the world, the last thing you want to do after coming home from a 9-5 is sit down at the computer and do something else that feels like it’s “productive”, even if it’s something you do genuinely really want to do. I’m going to have to make some decisions on how to proceed from here — do I keep attempting to promote my Patreon, or look into something like Kickstarter to fund a book series? Do I look into monetising MoeGamer’s content somehow, or share it across some other channels such as video? (I kind of hate video for anything other than TV shows and the occasional Zero Punctuation; give me some nice words any day, millennials’ attention spans be damned.) Do I attempt to pitch some articles to mainstream games press sites? (Probably not.)

There are lots of things to think about and it’s both exciting and scary. I want everything to be all right, as it emphatically isn’t right now, but at least I have options to explore, so everything isn’t hopeless quite yet. I hope, anyway.

Now, I’m off to bed to hopefully sleep soundly, and then I’m going away for the Bank Holiday weekend to play some board games with friends and probably get attacked by a dog. I sincerely hope this coming weekend is as relaxing as I need it to be, as the last few… weeks, months, I lose track… have been pretty hellish stress-wise, and I’d rather have just one weekend where I can just enjoy myself without having to worry about anything.

Thankfully, I don’t see anything standing in the way of that happening, so expect suitably enthusiastic reports throughout the weekend, and be prepared to commiserate with me on my inevitable losses at games that involve any sort of strategic thinking.

2290: The Excruciating Accuracy of W1A

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The other night, I was randomly trawling Netflix for something to watch while I couldn’t sleep, and I stumbled across a BBC show I’d never seen before called W1A. I later discovered that this was the follow-up to Twenty Twelve (which I also haven’t seen yet), and is one of the most effective “fake documentary” series I’ve seen since the original British version of The Office.

W1A focuses on the BBC itself, which is a pretty ballsy move given how scathing the show is of BBC corporate culture. Casting Hugh “Downton Abbey” Bonneville in the role of Ian Fletcher, the BBC’s new Head of Values, the show follows Fletcher’s efforts to make sense of the waffling business-speak world that one of the world’s most celebrated broadcasters has become in the last few years. Fletcher is by no means a blameless character in all this, but he, by far, comes across as one of the most “normal” and relatable characters in the cast.

The reason for this is that the rest of the cast members are exaggerated parodies of various office archetypes. I would say that they are exaggerated to the degree of absurdity, but not far through the first episode I realised that I had met and interacted with each and every one of these archetypes at various points in my professional life — in education, in office work and in retail — and suddenly it didn’t feel quite so absurd after all. It was still amusing, but in a tragic sort of way; the realisation hit me that this is what the world has become these days.

One of the most frequent character traits on display is relentless, unnecessary positivity, even when it’s completely inappropriate. It’s not unusual to see serious issues being raised in meetings, with the only responses from around the table being a chorus of “Brilliant.” “Great.” “Well then.” “Marvellous.” and “Okay then.” Likewise, to my chagrin, I’ve caught myself using some of the character traits of intern Will, most notably his blind agreeing (and declaration that it’s “cool” and “no worries”) with everything that people say, only to admit that he didn’t actually hear what he just agreed to just a moment later.

While I find W1A pretty excruciating to watch — particularly when Jessica Hynes and her painfully millenial PR company “Perfect Curve” are on screen — it’s nonetheless rather compelling and almost reassuring in a strange sort of way: a viewer’s initial reaction to these seeming caricatures — their repetitiveness and their relentless, inappropriate cheerfulness — as them being absurd in some way is entirely deliberate. The writers of the show know how ridiculous and absurd the situation is, along with all the nonsense that goes on in modern corporate culture — which more often than not cares more about outward appearances than actually making life good for its employees and clients — and the show itself acts as a means of people who are tired of this aspect of modern life to come together, point and laugh, then perhaps go and have a little cry in the corner.

You’re not alone in hating the way the world has turned out, says W1A. We hate it too; we’ve just decided to laugh at it, because what’s the alternative?

2286: Disappointment

This post is a response to WordPress’ “Daily Post” writing prompt for today.

My immediate reaction to the word “disappointment” when seeing today’s writing prompt was… well, disappointment in The Daily Post’s prompts of late.

Longtime readers may recall my occasional use of The Daily Post’s writing prompts and the fact that they led to some interesting explorations of topics I might not normally explore on this blog. My default go-to topics for writing about are video games, games journalism and mental health issues, but the prompts from The Daily Post gave me a nudge to consider other topics now and again, whether they be nostalgic, hypothetical or just plain weird.

Lately, though, the prompts on the site have just been single words, and these don’t inspire me nearly as much as the questions or phrases that used to make up The Daily Post’s bank of writing prompts. I’m trying to pin down exactly why the change to this style of prompt fills me with such disappointment, and I think it’s because it provides the opportunity for too broad a range of things to write about; single-word prompts are too flexible.

Let me explain what I mean. When I decide to make use of a writing prompt for a day’s post, I like it being in the form of a question or an exam-style “Phrase. Discuss.” prompt because it provides some sort of direction to the writing. Creativity is, to me, at its most interesting when you work within some sort of constraint, because you then have to not only use your creativity to produce the work itself, but you also have to use your creativity to perhaps bend the rules of the constraint in question, too. A single word doesn’t constrain me at all; I can still pretty much write about anything tangentially related to, say, “disappointment”, and I’ve technically fulfilled the brief. That, to me, isn’t a helpful writing prompt. That, to me, makes me feel like I should have just started writing any old thing off the top of my head rather than looking for a prompt.

I’m aware that my experiences and feelings about this aren’t going to be the same as everyone else’s, and that there are doubtless plenty of bloggers out there who relish the chance to tackle the challenge of a single-word prompt and make it interesting. But for me, I always found The Daily Post much more enjoyable when it provided much clearer briefs and prompts on what to write about — and much more interesting to see how other people interpreted these briefs, too.

Hopefully we’ll see a return to form for The Daily Post at some point in the near future. If not, well, I may have to contemplate setting up something of my own. I can’t be the only one feeling disappointment in this way!

2281: Trying Times

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I’d like to be fairly open about this, within reason, as I don’t want to sound like I’m constantly moaning about stuff — particularly with my desire to be more positive that I expressed the other day — but I feel it’s important to share with those of you who read regularly and whom I consider to be friends.

It’s a difficult period of life right now, as you might have surmised from some recent posts. I’d like to talk a little about what’s going on and why, and how you might be able to help.

Basically the main trouble we’re having stems from a chronic pain condition my wife has which is called, if I remember correctly, interstitial cystitis, also known as the rather literal “painful bladder syndrome”. The issue has been bothering her for well over a year now, and for the last few months she’s been off work due to how bad the pain has been. With me having also been out of work since my seasonal position at Game came to an end in January, as you can probably imagine, this has made financial security something of an issue. Technically I do have a new job now, but as I’ll explain in a moment, the situation isn’t exactly ideal.

Of greater concern than the financial issues — though they are related — is the matter of mental health, both for my wife and for me. Andie’s inability to work has led to her being practically housebound, which as anyone who has been housebound will know, can lead to feelings of loneliness and isolation that can sometimes escalate into more severe negative feelings. Without going into details — this isn’t the time or place for that — suffice it to say that Andie has had a very difficult time of it with both her mental and physical health over the last few months, and it’s by turns heartbreaking, upsetting, frustrating and infuriating to cope with for me, since there’s literally nothing I can do about it.

The reason I say the situation with my new job isn’t particularly ideal is that, as anyone who has been left alone and isolated with mental health issues will know, being by yourself when you’re feeling particularly low isn’t a good or safe situation to be in. I know, I’ve been there — though thankfully the negative feelings I had never escalated to such a degree that I did myself serious harm. (The most I did to myself was bruise my hand a bit from thumping the floor in frustration.) My new job is in Basingstoke, which is at least half an hour’s drive away and thus puts me out of range of being able to easily rush back if necessary. It puts Andie in the position where she feels like she has no-one to call on for help in the day if she needs it, and it puts me in the position where I don’t know what state I might find her in when I get home, which is, naturally, rather worrying.

So with that in mind, for the next week or two I’m going to be taking some time to make sure she’s all right — and that I’m all right, for that matter. We’re getting some help and support from various sources — both family and medical — but anything those of you out there in friend-land can offer would be most welcome, even if it’s just a kind word and a chat now and again. (If you do feel inclined to help us out financially, may I direct you to my Patreon page, where you can help me make my writing into a proper income stream.)

I hope things are going to be all right. It’s easy to fall into a pit of negativity when this sort of thing happens and there doesn’t seem to be any sort of easy solution. But with the right help and support, we’ll hopefully make it out of this particular pit, be able to get back on track and start living our life the way we want it to again. That would be very nice right now.