#oneaday Day 598: Poptimism

There's been a lot of grumbling over a new game called Highguard just recently. I don't really know what Highguard is, which is part of the problem — apparently it was initially shown off at The Game Awards last year, then just went pretty much radio silent until its… launch? Now? Something like that?

From what I can make out, Highguard is a live service multiplzzzzzzzzzzz — ah, so that's why I haven't really been following it. But that's not precisely what I want to talk about today. I, instead, want to talk about the discussions that have been happening over the last few days on the subject of coverage of Highguard.

It started with an op-ed over on IGN written by Senior Editor Simon Cardy, whose article Can We Stop Dunking on Highguard Before It's Even Out, Please? is fairly self-explanatory in terms of its core thesis. Cardy argues that it's annoying when a game is seemingly randomly picked as a whipping-boy and becomes the butt of jokes before anyone has actually gone hands-on with it and is thus in a position to comment on it from an informed, experienced perspective.

I get this. I kind-of-sort-of agree with it. It is annoying when there's something you're interested in, and all you can find in terms of coverage is How Bad Does This Game Look?! clickbait. And it is a bit daft for people to be pre-judging Highguard based on a single trailer and a remarkably quiet marketing department.

At the same time, as this piece by Autumn Wright argues, there's a strong argument to be made that the press covering a particular medium is under no obligation to remain what they describe as "poptimistic". It is not the press' job to go to bat for a particular game or company — especially not ahead of its release — and there are a lot of things about Highguard that do warrant discussion. Exactly why has its marketing been so non-existent? Does the world really need yet another live service multiplzzzzzzzzz? I'm so uninterested in the game as a whole I can't even think of a third possible question, but I'm sure there's something else that needs asking.

The problem, as ever, is in how different people see the role of the enthusiast press.

Some see it as an extension of marketing — and indeed, there are plenty of outlets that operate like this. There are plenty of outlets that have since gone under that operate like this, and there will be more in the future. It's a bit of an occupational hazard; by engaging with the standard news-preview-review cycle, you are part of a Marketing Plan, whether you want to be or not. And that's always been the norm for the games press, dating right back to magazines. It was never really questioned all that much until relatively recently; people wanted to know what was coming up, and they wanted to know if the thing they had thought looked cool for the last six months actually ended up being any good or not.

Others see it as fulfilling a critical role — critical in the sense of "administering criticism", not as in "really important", though the people who feel this way would probably argue that also. People who feel this way are interested in the stories behind the games and how games can fit into broader cultural commentary. They ask what particular games can tell us about society, and what the artistic meaning behind a work — both intended by the author and perceived by the audience — might be.

The challenge, of course, is access. The former group gets access to games because they tacitly agree to being part of the Marketing Plan. They get invited to press events to try out a new game; they get sent preview and review codes early; they agree to embargoes so the publisher of a game, not the press outlet, remains in control of the coverage. The latter group, meanwhile, tends to have to fend for itself to a certain degree. This gives them a lot more freedom in terms of what they cover and how, of course, but they can't rely on having access — whether that means "getting an early copy of a game" or "being able to pick the lead writer's brain without a PR person breathing down their neck".

I don't really know what the answer is, or even if there is a satisfactory one. I don't quite fall into either of the above categories with what I do over on MoeGamer, but then that's a site by an individual run as a passion project, not a commercial venture. As such, I have the freedom to pick and choose what I cover, and to exclusively concentrate on things that I, personally, feel have some worth and value — or, at the very least, are interesting enough to want to talk about. That means my site skews positive, which is anathema to some people, but I'm not there to do a PR company's bidding — nor am I there out of any obligation to criticise things just because they "need criticising". I simply choose to focus all my attention on games that I think are worthwhile, and that I think more people should check out.

I hate to sound like I'm "both sides-ing" the issue, but the reality is, there are valid points from all angles here. It is silly to pre-judge Highguard with little to no information — or perhaps it's more accurate to say it's silly to make assumptions about what Highguard will be with little to no information. At the same time, though, outlets have no obligation to hype up a new release — and especially, one would argue, when the marketing department doesn't appear to have been doing its job at all.

This is, I can guarantee, the only thing I am going to write about Highguard. Because the one thing I have managed to glean from the discussion over it is that I don't really give a shit about it. So I'll just say I hope it's as good/bad as you were anticipating, and leave it at 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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#oneaday Day 597: The MiSTer as reference library

One of my favourite purchases in recent memory is the MiSTer Multisystem 2 from Heber, which is an all-in-one console designed around the open-source MiSTer framework. If you're unfamiliar, this is a specification for hardware-based emulation of classic computers and games consoles, using a technology called FPGA. The advantage of FPGA is that it produces much more accurate results than typical software emulation, and thus it is a good substitute for original hardware, particularly if you're going to go the whole hog and use analogue CRT displays.

I think the most valuable thing about the way I've set mine up is that it is now effectively an interactive reference library of video games from the Atari 2600 right up until the PS1, N64 and Saturn. I invested in a large amount of external storage early on precisely so I could load it up with absolutely everything I might ever want (and quite a lot of things I will probably never want) and thus never have to worry about tracking down ROMs and disc/disk images ever again. (Until I discover a New Favourite Console, of course. Which has been known to happen.)

This is a useful resource both for my own curiosity and for my day job. We're working on something thoroughly interesting in the latter regard right now — no, you won't get any hints here — and an important part of that is ensuring that the project is accurate to the original version. Having the MiSTer Multisystem 2 up and running right next to me in my study means that, at a moment's notice, I can flip it on, check something and capture video for my colleagues to compare to. This is a good thing.

Having a storage device full to bursting with ROMs and disc/disk images, of course, runs the risk of the dreaded "analysis paralysis". But at the same time, if someone says something like "oh, I used to really like Enduro Racer on the Master System", I can pull that up and check it out immediately, knowing that the experience I'm having is authentic to the original hardware, and all without having to swap around cables, power adapters and controllers.

I have a lot of original hardware, which I like owning. But pretty much all of it is now primarily on display on the shelves rather than being used directly — because with very few exceptions, the MiSTer Multisystem 2 works just as well as the "real thing", with little in the way of compromise. And some improvements in some cases; it's absolutely no contest between a modern 8bitdo controller and the dreadful original Sega Master System joypad.

The one thing that is a compromise is the tactile nature of using original computers. Different computers had their own different case designs and keyboards, and thus a distinctive feel to using them. I have the 8bitdo mechanical C64-style keyboard as a suitably "retro" input device for computers, and it's great — but it does mean I miss out on little things like the distinctive shape of the Atari ST's function keys or the unique keys on certain systems' keyboards. (And documentation on exactly what these unique keys are mapped to on a modern keyboard is remarkably lacking, it has to be said!)

You also, of course, miss the fun tactile aspect of working with physical media. There's still something undeniably lovely about putting a cartridge in a slot or loading up a disk and listening to the whirr-snark of a floppy drive, and it will be a sad day when no-one remembers doing that. But with original hardware — particularly floppy disks — becoming more unreliable and prices for second-hand copies of retro games going through the absolute roof, at this point attempting to collect games for old computers and consoles feels like a complete waste of money.

Meanwhile, I have not regretted a single pound I have spent on my MiSTer setup. And, with any luck, given the lack of moving mechanical parts in it, it will last for a good long while, too.

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#oneaday Day 596: Sad little men

I've had two angry emails this week, one from someone who was upset I was covering Wolfenstein over on MoeGamer and drawing some parallels between the alt-history 1960s Nazi world order depicted in the game and the heinous shit going down in the United States right now, and another, likely a sock puppet, from someone who was angry that I said mean things about a particularly notorious revolting little troll that occasionally tries to start shit with the UK retro gaming YouTube community.

To both of these individuals, I extend my middle finger in an unmistakeable gesture and invite them, politely, to eat an entire bag of dicks. Because neither of these people were up for any sort of discussion — not that I wanted to discuss their odious viewpoints with them — and just wanted to spew a wall of vitriol at me before flouncing off into the sunset, likely to never think of me ever again. And I'm 100% fine with that last bit.

The first bit is a shitty thing to have to deal with, though. I, unfortunately, know quite a few people who have been on the receiving end of abusive messages from people like these two fucknuggets, and none of them have deserved what they have gotten. The people who spew this kind of hatefulness are, without exception, bigoted, intolerant fuckheads who are angry that the world doesn't cater specifically to them. They don't like that certain types of people who are different from them exist, whether those differences come in the form of their skin colour, gender identity, sexuality or how many YouTube subscribers they have. They are angry at the simple existence of people they see as different from them; they think these differences make those people somehow dangerous.

They fear them, and that's why they lash out in the way they do — they hope to break the spirit of people they have decided that they dislike. They have no endgame; no real purpose in mind. They just want to hurt people. And it's fucking pathetic. Particularly because the targets they pick, like me, are, frankly, completely harmless individuals who they likely never would have come into contact with were it not for the increasingly potholed Information Superhighway.

It sucks that we have to tolerate the existence of pathetic little trolls like this, because practically speaking, there's not a lot that can really be done about them. Law enforcement aren't interested in some mean messages on the Internet, social media platforms are increasingly lawless zones, and hosting your own sites means you have the joy of having to deal with moderation tasks yourself. At least WordPress and YouTube make it easy enough to block commenters via various means.

It's a shitty world out there, both online and offline, and there are days when it doesn't feel like there's anything worth "saving" any more. If you encounter any little shits like the ones I've described today, my best advice is to remember that their pathetic little lives are almost certainly full of more self-inflicted misery than you can possibly imagine, and that they're lashing out precisely because of that fact because they're unwilling to admit that they're at fault. Once you start down the path of being an Internet Dickhead, it's very difficult to pull yourself back and save face. Because, frankly, even if these two clagnuts came to me with a genuine apology tomorrow, I would not have the time of day for them.

You get one chance in life to make a first impression, and if that first impression is violently shitting yourself while screaming and waving a knife around, I'm not going to let you into my house, ever.

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#oneaday Day 595: A nice chat with my doctor

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.

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#oneaday Day 594: Point. Click.

I love point-and-click adventures. Back in the '90s, they were probably my favourite type of game. I devoured everything LucasArts came out with and a lot of stuff Sierra did — though I must confess, there are still a few gaps in my knowledge on the latter front.

LucasArts stuff was just better than Sierra stuff, at least in the early days. Early on, LucasArts' developers decided to take the things that annoyed people about Sierra games — chiefly the ability to die and get yourself into unwinnable situations — and throw them out of the window. Far from removing all challenge from the games as a result, this just made them much more fun to play — although it's interesting to note quite how short a lot of those games are by modern standards.

One thing to remember is that when we were playing stuff like Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis, Internet access wasn't particularly widespread. Hell, GameFAQs wouldn't exist for another few years, even if you could get on the Internet; some resourceful folks were writing walkthroughs and posting them on places like CompuServe's GAMERS forum (a frequent online hangout for myself), but for the most part, when it came to solving a tricky game, you had two options: figure it out yourself, or wait for a magazine to print a walkthrough.

This meant that games that are maybe three or four hours long start to finish could actually take days, weeks or even months to complete. We had a lot more patience for that sort of thing back then — although I do recall finding it quite eye opening when I bought a brand new copy of Full Throttle, played it for two hours with my brother and we rolled credits on it.

Today, point and click adventures are still going strong. Press and public alike have enjoyed saying the genre is "dead" for many years, but in reality it's been nothing of the sort. What changed is the part of the market that point-and-click adventures occupied; while once a Sierra or LucasArts game would be considered a "big release" in a similar fashion to today's triple-A titles, after the turn of the millennium they became more niche interest affairs.

I'm not entirely sure why, either; they hadn't fundamentally changed what they were doing, or their core appeal elements. Although thinking about it, that's probably precisely why they became more niche interest affairs. From the late '90s onwards, the "upper" (for want of a better term) end of the market was going 3D, exclusively. And adventure games, up until this point, had been resolutely 2D affairs, tending to be showcases for beautiful rotoscoped or hand-drawn animation, painted backdrops and suchlike. In the age of PlayStation, that suddenly wasn't fashionable any more for a variety of reasons — and the few attempts to bring point-and-click adventures into the 3D realm had been met with a mixed response.

As with most niche interest things, an enthusiast community developed, with many of them rallying around a piece of software called Adventure Game Studio. Initially DOS-based, this was a tool that allowed anyone with a creative mind and the ability to produce basic graphics to put together a point-and-click adventure. It took effort, mind; this wasn't a "game generator", but a fully featured game engine, suitable for creating point-and-click games similar in style to Sierra, LucasArts and any number of other models.

Remarkably, Adventure Game Studio is still going to this day — and the enthusiast community is still using it. Only now, we see a lot more commercial releases from independent developers. And even more remarkably, the stuff being put out today by small outfits is pretty consistently better than anything from the genre's supposed "golden age" of the mid '90s.

There are more point-and-click adventure games that have been released in the last few years than there ever were back in the '90s. And they're really, really good. For just a few recommendations: the Kathy Rain series is an excellent series of investigative adventures; Old Skies by Wadjet Eye Games is an incredibly thoughtful narrative-centric game with a time travel hook; Lamplight City by Grundislav Games is what happens if you take Gabriel Knight and stick it in a steampunk setting; Brok the InvestiGator by CowCat Games is a brilliant, lengthy animated adventure with optional beat 'em up mechanics.

Even better, these games are a lot longer than their mid '90s counterparts. Old Skies took me a good 12 hours. The two Kathy Rain games are about 8 hours each. I'm 7 hours into Lamplight City so far and on the fourth chapter of five. I'm not sure how long Brok was but I have a feeling it was pushing 20 hours.

"Length of play" isn't the sole metric by which you should measure a game's worth, of course. But what a longer game means in the adventure game space is a more detailed, in-depth story to explore and enjoy. The difference between watching a movie and a whole season of a TV show. Both have their place, of course — I'm not averse to a short adventure game, still, and frequently go back to some '90s faves — but it's always nice when one of these modern games really gives you something to get your teeth into properly.

Best of all, though, is that there's loads of them. The ones I've mentioned above are just scratching the surface. As someone who has always loved this type of game, that excites me. And I've really been enjoying playing Lamplight City of late in particular. More on that over on MoeGamer when I've beaten it, though….

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#oneaday Day 593: A meaningfully revised roadmap

Ubisoft has announced today that they are cancelling six games, delaying seven more, closing two studios and forcing everyone back to five days a week in the office. Their justification for this is the usual mealy-mouthed, weasel word-filled business-speak nonsense:

In the context of a persistently more selective market as illustrated by the last quarter, and as part of the finalization of the Group's new operating model, Ubisoft has conducted a thorough review of its content pipeline over December and January. This has led to the strategic decision to refocus its portfolio, reallocate resources and comprehensively revise its roadmap over the next three years. This will support the objective to return to exceptional levels of quality on the Open-World Adventure segment and step-change the Group's position in the GaaS-native experiences segment, as illustrated by the recently acquired project, March of Giants.

In other words, Ubisoft is going back to focusing almost exclusively on the type of game people have been taking the piss out of them for years for — there's a reason people refer to open-world games where you hoover up icons from a map as "Ubisoft Game #[bigNumber]". And, when they're not doing that, they're going to jump headfirst into the exceedingly volatile live service arena, where the last decade or so has clearly demonstrated that if your name isn't Fortnite or Roblox you are almost certainly going to release an enormously expensive colossal failure of a game that will be shuttered in less than a year.

To put it another way, for every Fortnite there are hundreds of Concords. And most of them don't get the coverage Concord did. They just release to zero excitement, zero acclaim and zero passion from anyone, then quietly die in obscurity, destined to be forgotten forever.

All of this seems extraordinarily stupid, particularly since one of the cancelled games was the remake of Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, whose original incarnation is one of the company's most well-regarded games from years gone by, and a title that would have doubtless reviewed and performed well among today's audience. But no; because it "does not meet the new enhanced quality as well as more selective portfolio prioritization criteria at Group level", it is kaputt. It is no more. It is an ex-game.

Ubisoft has, of course, been undergoing something of a turbulent time, so these "strategic decisions" to "refocus" (read: lay people off) are not a surprise to see. Business decisions like this are, at times, regrettably unavoidable.

However, what is eminently avoidable is charging headlong into sectors that the general public have clearly indicated that they're sick of. Not only "the Open-World Adventure segment" and "GaaS-native experiences", but also, unsurprisingly, they slipped this little bit into their "revised roadmap":

The new operating model will further empower the execution of the Group's strategy, centred on Open World Adventures and GaaS-native experiences, supported by targeted investments, deeper specialization, and cutting-edge technology, including accelerated investments behind player-facing Generative AI.

There it is! Of course there's fucking generative AI involved, because why wouldn't there be? The industry that is losing billions of dollars a year and is pretty much universally hated by anyone whose job isn't just "shareholder" is clearly the right thing for this ailing company to focus on! Surely the generator of what is commonly agreed to be called "slop" these days will help us make better games! Everyone loves AI! Don't they?

(silence)

(a quiet cough)

God fucking dammit. Living in this century is so fucking frustrating, like, all of the time. I haven't been much of a fan of Ubisoft stuff for numerous years at this point, but all this just makes it abundantly clear that they have zero respect for any of the actual creative work that goes into games. Look again at those quotes above, and count how many times artistry and creativity are mentioned.

That's right. Absolutely nothing whatsoever.

At least they're being honest about it, I guess.

I wonder how long they have left?

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#oneaday Day 592: Abstinence from AI

I, as I may have made clear on a few separate occasions on these hallowed pages, fucking hate generative AI. I do not use it. I do not need to use it. I do not want to use it. And I cannot wait for the whole bubble to pop and this whole shitshow to go the way of the NFT and the Metaverse.

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.

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#oneaday Day 591: Joyless healthiness

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.

So you know what? I might just do that. I might just do that.

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#oneaday Day 590: Noodle Report: Shin Ramyun Spicy Chicken and Toomba Flavours

I love a good noodle, at least partly due to my enjoyment of Paul Gannon and Eli Silverman's CheapShow podcast. And in recent times, it seems to have become much easier to find interesting noodles — not only via online ordering and specialist "Asian supermarkets", but also in regular old Sainsbury's, Morrisons and the like.

On my most recent trip to Sainsbury's, I picked up a few unfamiliar packets of noodles to give them a try — specifically, two from the Nongshim "Shin Ramyun" range. I've never tried the basic Shin Ramyun flavour that appears to have become quite widespread and accepted as yet, but these two looked intriguing, so I thought I'd give them a go. Shin Ramyun, if you're unfamiliar is just the Korean term for "spicy noodles", so most varieties of the range have a certain degree of zinginess to them.

The first one I tried was the "Toomba" variant. This didn't offer any real indication of what it was supposed to taste of other than that it was "Spicy & Creamy". Thus I had no idea what to expect — I didn't even really know if it was going to be a soup-style or stir fry-style noodle until I actually started preparing them.

As it happens, the Toomba variant is quite similar to Samyang's Carbonara-style Buldak noodles, which are a stir-fry type: you boil the noodles for about 4-5 minutes, drain them, then add a packet of sauce and a packet of powder and stir vigorously while still applying a bit of heat until the noodles turn an angry red colour. The result is a glossy noodle with a pleasantly sticky sauce, but no soup.

The flavour profile is similar to the Carbonara Buldak, also, only the spice level is somewhat milder. There's still a bit of a kick, but it's much less in-your-face than the Buldak ones, making these a much easier recommend to someone who doesn't mind a bit of spice, but doesn't want their head blowing off and their lips to be numb for several hours afterwards. I actually overall liked the flavour a lot more than the Carbonara Buldak, too — although that is a popular Buldak variant, it's one of my least favourite from the range — and can give these an easy recommend. There's a nice blend of spice, cheese and garlic, and they both smell and taste pretty great.

Why Toomba, though? Well, apparently it's a tad convoluted, but as Sporked reports, it is apparently down to a common method of customising standard Shin Ramyun noodles with milk, American cheese, sauteed onions and garlic, which is supposed to make them taste like a pasta dish served at South Korean branches of Outback Steakhouse. The dish itself is called Toowoomba Pasta after a city of the same name in Australia; it actually has no connection whatsoever to the city, as apparently South Korean Outback Steakhouses just like naming things after Australian cities for some reason. These noodles, whose packet of powder basically takes care of the "customising" for you, are called "Toomba" as a contraction that draws the mind to "Toowoomba" without running any obvious risk of upsetting Outback Steakhouses' lawyers. Clear? Not really? Don't worry. All you need to know is that they're pretty tasty.

The Spicy Chicken Shin Ramyun, meanwhile, are a soup-type noodle that come with a packet of powder and a packet of dried vegetable flakes. The result of cooking up a packet of these is a generous bowl of noodle soup that is, once again, an angry red colour. The flavour is quite nice, blending a bit of chicken, a bit of herbiness and a kick of spice. Again, like the Toomba noodles, they aren't overwhelmingly spicy to the same degree as Buldak noodles, but they have a pleasantly warming kick to them, and they'll make your lips tingle a bit.

I didn't mind these. They didn't wow me in the same way as some other noodles that I've had, but they're a perfectly acceptable bowl of noodle soup — a nice winter warmer, and I can imagine them being very pleasant if you're fending off a mild cold. I wasn't overly enamoured by the herbiness of the flavour, though; it overwhelmed the chickeniness of the broth somewhat in a way that I didn't completely love.

In summary then, these were both good bowls of noodles, but in future I'd feel a lot more inclined to go for the "Toomba" ones again; the Spicy Chicken ones were all right, but I don't feel immediately inclined to rush out and buy more of them. They do make me curious to try the regular ol' Shin Ramyun flavour, though, as apparently a lot of people rate those quite highly. I will be sure to report back on my findings when I've given them a go.

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#oneaday Day 589: HeroQuest First Light, First Session

I've done it! I've finally played a game of HeroQuest with actual real human people. And we had a really good time! We got through the first two quests in the First Light campaign — I've bought both First Light and the big-box core set, but I wanted to give First Light a go because it's a completely different campaign to the big-box core set, and the big-box core set campaign is largely based on the 1989 original, which I was already familiar with.

Both sets stand by themselves, and both are a good means of getting into HeroQuest as a hobby; the main difference is that First Light is a lot cheaper and comes in a smaller box, because it lacks the big collection of plastic miniatures included in the big-box core set. And, having played the game with those big-box core set miniatures today, I'm glad I picked it up; making the whole game a lot more "3D" really adds to the atmosphere and makes it look great on the table. (For the budget-conscious, the cardboard standees for monsters in First Light have some great artwork on them — and you do still get miniatures for the heroes and a recurring dragon boss — but all the furniture items are flat cardboard tiles that just show a plan view of the furniture. They serve their purpose, but it's hard to deny that the 3D furniture is just better.)

Playing Zargon (known as Morcar in the European '80s version) is an interesting experience. One thing you have to remember while playing is that although you are technically an "adversary" for the Hero players, you are not necessarily trying to defeat them. You are, instead, attempting to facilitate a fun session of storytelling, using the game mechanics as a framework, and that sometimes means quietly fudging things a bit, rebalancing the difficulty on the fly and responding to things that happen in a way that isn't necessarily laid down for you in the Quest Book in black-and-white.

Some people turn their nose up at HeroQuest because of its simplistic mechanics, and I can totally understand that; there are games with similar theming that go much harder on strategy and tactics, with each encounter feeling a lot more like a tabletop wargaming skirmish than a dungeon crawl. For some, that's what they want; for me, though, I've always been very fond of HeroQuest's straightforward mechanics, because not only do they keep the game pacy and help emphasise the collective, emergent narrative of the players' quest, they also make it very easy for newcomers to pick up. There's very little trawling through an epic rulebook once you have the basic rules sorted, which means there's very little downtime, and a lot more time for moving, fighting and searching things — because those are the three main things you do in HeroQuest.

The two quests we played today were enjoyably different from one another. The first was a relatively open-plan dungeon in which the Heroes, by chance, picked the "correct" way to go at the beginning and ended up at the concluding encounter relatively quickly, but in the process they also missed out on potentially collecting a bit more treasure. The second quest had an interesting series of magic portals that could send the Heroes to different parts of the dungeon, some of which connected with one another and some of which did not.

The second quest was noticeably harder than the first. The Heroes did have a bit of a run of bad luck with dice rolls — particularly once they opened up a secret room and found a pair of Mummies, which are surprisingly tough enemies to beat — but that made their eventual victory over the quest's "boss" feel hard-earned and definitely worthwhile. And relatively little Zargon fudging was required to keep everyone alive!

The cool thing is that I think the Hero players learned something from how these two quests went down — notably, that it is helpful to stay together, but in a tactically advantageous formation so, for example, the Wizard doesn't get twatted in the face, so the Barbarian doesn't block doorways and so everyone is able to get a chance to line up and punch something. The Wizard got equipped with a staff after the first quest, which allows him to attack diagonally, so that helped inform some tactics, and the Heroes have also determined that getting themselves some better equipment probably wouldn't be a terrible idea, either.

Lots of scope for growth, and the players enjoyed themselves enough to want to play it again! So with any luck, in a couple of weeks' time, it'll be hitting the table again and the campaign can continue.

I'm really very happy about this. I've been wanting to run a proper game of HeroQuest since I was, like, ten, and now I am. And I'm having fun! Sometimes you just need patience. And to buy the game multiple times in the intervening years.

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