1770: Drizzt's Grand Adventure

Went over to my friend Tim's today, and we played a bunch of Wii U games (he's now finding it very difficult to resist the allure of Nintendo's underrated little console, particularly with a new Super Smash Bros. on the horizon) as well as some tabletop stuff, too.

One of the games we gave a shot was something that's been on my shelf for a while, but which I've only had the opportunity to play once: The Legend of Drizzt. Our regular group as a whole has a bit of a mixed opinion on cooperative games and dungeon crawlers, and The Legend of Drizzt is most certainly both of those things, although it does have a few scenarios that are competitive or team-based in nature as well as pure co-op action.

I own quite a few dungeon-crawlers, ranging from Milton Bradley's original Hero Quest through Games Workshop's follow-ups Advanced Heroquest [sic] and Warhammer Quest to more modern fare such as Descent: Journeys in the Dark Second Edition and, of course The Legend of Drizzt. Of all of these, Descent appears to have fared the best with the group as a whole, but it's also one of the most complex affairs thanks to its campaign rules and myriad tokens and pieces. Consequently, it doesn't hit the table as often as I'd perhaps like, and we're yet to run a whole campaign through to completion.

The nice thing about The Legend of Drizzt is that its adventures are all standalone affairs that can be run pretty quickly, and which form a coherent narrative if you choose to play through them in order. It does lack campaign rules, sadly, which means each time you start a new quest you're effectively starting from scratch with your chosen character, but this does mean you potentially have the opportunity to try out all the different characters and combinations of skills rather than being railroaded down a single development path. I'm unsure as to which route is better; while the ongoing increase in power of a lengthy campaign is fun, it's also essential to have a group with full commitment to seeing it through to completion and, much as I don't like to admit it, I'm not sure I have that right now. One day, perhaps.

But anyway. The Legend of Drizzt.

Drizzt, as it shall be known for the rest of this post, is one of the Dungeons & Dragons Adventures series of board games. All three of these games are very similar, and, in fact, are fully compatible with one another, so it's perfectly possible to mix and match elements from all of them to create custom character builds, adventures and scenarios. I only have Drizzt for now, but I'm tempted to pick up at least one of the others at some point, too.

The essence of the Dungeons & Dragons Adventures series is to provide a lightweight dungeon-crawling experience inspired by the 4th Edition rules of the Dungeons & Dragons role-playing game. For those who aren't well-up on their pen-and-paper role-playing games, D&D 4th Edition was interesting in that it placed a much stronger focus on tactical, board game-style combat than previous incarnations, in which it was perfectly possible to perform abstract combat sequences. (You can do this in D&D 4th Edition, too, but it's not really designed for it.) It also gave each character a very clear set of things that they could do, known as Powers. These fell into a few different categories: At-Will Powers could be performed every turn without penalty, and tended to be the character's main attack skills, each of which with its own benefits and drawbacks; Utility and Encounter Powers, meanwhile, could be performed once per "encounter" (essentially a self-contained sequence in the game, often — but not always — a battle) and were a bit more powerful and situational; while Daily Powers represented the character's most devastating (or helpful) abilities, but which could only be performed once per in-game day (or, more accurately, once per period between "extended rests").

Drizzt isn't anywhere near as complex as the main D&D 4th Edition rules, but it pulls some of its main features — most notably the use of Powers. When you start a scenario, you pick a character, and from there you're given access to at least one deck of cards from which you can pick a certain number of At-Will, Utility and Daily Powers. These will then be the abilities that you will have to use to progress through the scenario — though if you're lucky enough to level your character up in the middle of a scenario (a situation which isn't guaranteed) you tend to get access to at least one extra one as a reward.

Since the concept of "encounters" and "days" doesn't really exist in Drizzt, the Utility and Daily powers are effectively one-shot abilities that you need to think very carefully about when you use. There are a couple of Treasure cards you can score by defeating monsters that allow you to "recharge" these powers, but they are few and far between; you're best off saving your most powerful Powers for when you really need them.

Interestingly, unlike many other dungeon crawler games, Drizzt doesn't require an adversary (or "Dungeon Master") player. Instead, the game makes use of a clever system whereby when you explore a new area, you draw a monster card and then activate any monsters of that type on the board (including the one you just drew and placed) according to specific conditional rules on the card. In essence, the game itself runs the monsters automatically, and the players have to deal with them accordingly. This is somewhat similar to how Warhammer Quest works, though in Drizzt each monster has its own unique rules and special attacks that you'll come to recognise — and, hopefully, learn how to deal with over time.

I really enjoyed our game of it today, and I hope I get the chance to play it again sometime soon. It's an enjoyable, lightweight and, perhaps most importantly for our group, quick dungeon-crawler with a lot of flexibility, and I'm looking forward to having the chance to play it a bit more.

1769: Knackered

Page_1To be perfectly frank with you, dear reader, I'm not at all sure what I should write about today, so I've come to the oft-reached conclusion that I should just start typing and see what spews forth from my brain onto the page, like a violent eruption of creative vomit into the toilet of online publication.

I'm tired. I may have had Monday off from work thanks to our holiday, but it's still been a long week. It hasn't been the best week either, frankly, not because of any real specific happenings, but just from a mental health perspective. I don't know whether it's a sort of "comedown" from the nice time we had away or if it's something a bit more deep-seated, but I've been feeling thoroughly miserable this week for a variety of reasons, which has probably been pretty clear from at least a couple of my recent posts.

Still, no matter, I guess, because the weekend is here, and that's time to rest, relax, recharge and… something else beginning with R. (No, not that. Honestly.) Andie is away for most of tomorrow for a friend's birthday party celebration drinks type thing, so I'm taking the rare opportunity to go spend some time with one of my local friends (and regular board gaming buddies) at the weekend. We're going to play some Wii U and possibly some board games, and he's going to experiment with cooking things that sound far too ambitious but which will hopefully be tasty if they come out all right.

We shall see, I guess.

The onset of winter isn't helping with the whole "feeling a bit low" thing. It's got to that point in the year where it's dark when I leave the house in the morning, and by the time I get out of work it's dark, too, making me feel like I live in perpetual night-time. (The fact my office doesn't have a whole lot of natural light going on doesn't help, either, and hours of fluorescent lights and computer screens every day isn't particularly restful on the eyes. It's no surprise that I feel like I need some new glasses, but after the opticians I went to last got my prescription wrong not once but twice I've been hesitant to waste more time on eye tests and getting glasses made.)

It's cold, too. Not cold enough for snow and ice, thankfully — there's only been one morning so far where I've had to chip frost off my car, though naturally this occurred before I'd actually remembered to purchase an ice-scraper — but still uncomfortably chilly. We have at least figured out both how to turn on the gas fire in our living room (which I'm still convinced works through black magic, since the stuff in it looks like it's burning but actually isn't) and how to turn on the heating in the rest of our house using the old-ass combination of dodgy thermostat and rattly electric timer. We thought for a while that the heating wasn't working, but — my Grandad would be proud of me — a bit of wiggling the valve thing in the airing cupboard seemed to make it start working again without too much difficulty. That saved an expensive call to a heating engineer, anyway.

So that's been my day and my week, then. Quite looking forward to tomorrow, it should be fun to get out of the house and do some stuff for a while. As of right now, though, I feel very much like curling up in bed with my Vita is the right thing to do, so I think that's what I'm going to go and do.

1768: Four Goddesses

Page_1Having beaten Senran Kagura Burst recently at last, I've been turning my attention back to Vita title Hyperdimension Neptunia Re;Birth1, the "remake" of the original Hyperdimension Neptunia — a series that I first discovered in January of last year and promptly fell head-over-heels in love with.

I put the word "remake" in inverted commas because to call Re;Birth1 a remake is to do it something of an injustice. This is a complete and total overhaul of the game from top to bottom — graphics, gameplay, mechanics, story, characters, music, everything. In essence, it's a completely new game that even those who played and enjoyed the original — I know there's some of you out there, even though it was the weakest in the series by a very long shot indeed — can get a huge kick out of.

All of the above said, Re;Birth1 does also recycle a whole ton of material from previous two games Hyperdimension Neptunia mk2 and Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory — principally dungeon aesthetics and layouts, monsters and music. Consequently, those of you who played mk2 and/or Victory will probably find a lot of familiar material in Re;Birth1 but that's not actually a bad thing; the comfortable familiarity of the recycled material gives the game a feeling of consistency with its predecessors (for obvious reasons) while the new stuff that is included — no, it's not identical to its predecessors — stands out all the more for being a big contrast to the material that's been used in three games now. In essence, the game represents a refinement of the Hyperdimension Neptunia formula that developer Compile Heart has been experimenting with over the course of the previous installments and, while not completely perfect — a couple of minor elements from the previous games that I really liked have been ditched for Re;Birth1 — it is, by far, the definitive Neptunia experience, and a game that is beautifully designed for portable play.

Neptunia games have always been about two things: a silly, enjoyable, well-written and witty story coupled with some surprisingly compelling, grind-and-farm-heavy dungeon crawling. Re;Birth1 is no exception; its narrative retells the story of the original Hyperdimension Neptunia with a few twists here and there as well as a host of new characters, while there's plenty of incentive to dungeon crawl thanks to its quest system and one of the main mechanical highlights: the sprawling Remake system.

Remake allows you to craft various things. So far so conventional, but unlike many other crafting systems, Remake allows you to craft game mechanics as well as items, weapons and armour. Finding the game a bit challenging? Dig up a programmer's plan to weaken all the enemies and hack it into the game to make things a bit easier for yourself. Want to find the hidden treasures more easily? Build your own treasure scanner to enhance the minimap. Annoyed at that age-old RPG problem, "You Failed to Escape"? Craft yourself the ability to escape from battle with a 100% success rate.

Of course, all this makes it sound a lot easier than it actually is; to complete these plans you'll have to first of all find the plan in the first place — they can be anywhere from inside treasure cubes in dungeons to held by various NPCs around the world map that pop up after every major story beat — and then collect all the ingredients, most of which tend to come from monsters. The game doesn't hold your hand with this; if you want to craft a plan, you'll have to figure out where on Earth you're going to get all the bits from, though thankfully a straightforward dungeon and monster encyclopedia in the menu allows you to see which enemies haunt which areas, and what they might drop when you kill them — assuming they've already dropped it for you at least once. Through this system, you're encouraged to explore the various dungeons and fight as many different enemy types as possible in order to fill out that monster guide — the more complete it is, the less you'll have to look up on the Internet later.

The nice thing, though, is that it's all completely optional. There's no obligation to go fiddling around with plans at all — though your life will be significantly easier if you do — so if you simply want to plough through the main story as quickly as you can, that option is always open to you. Likewise, there's no obligation to complete quests, unlock optional dungeons or kill boss monsters — though failing to do so may well leave you a bit underlevelled come story boss time, at least on your first playthrough.

As with previous installments of the Neptunia series, the game is absolutely dripping with personality. Each character is a clearly-defined — though often (deliberately) tropetacular — person in their own right, with many of them poking fun at established video game and anime characters. Indeed, a number of the new characters for Re;Birth1 are direct references to game series and developers such as Steins;Gate creator MAGES., Senran Kagura publisher Marvelous AQL and legendary fighting game series Tekken. Each of these characters is beautifully designed to encapsulate the very essence of the thing they're supposed to be referencing; MAGES. wouldn't look out of place in Steins;Gate herself, for example, and even has alternate colour schemes that directly reference the characters Mayushii and Faris, while Marvelous AQL has costumes based on the Senran Kagura girls' iconic outfits.

It's a cliché to describe something as a "love letter" to something else, but I'm going to do it anyway. Hyperdimension Neptunia has always been a love letter to fans of Japanese video games and anime, being packed full of references both obvious and incredibly subtle, and Re;Birth1 very much continues that. It's a game that celebrates the joy of having fun with interactive entertainment, and I defy you to play through it with anything other than a huge smile on your face.

Except, of course, when Killachine flattens your party for the fifth time in a row because you didn't prepare properly and ended up with everyone stunned and clustered together, just waiting to be cleaved. You don't have to keep smiling then. But you'll probably try again rather than flinging your Vita across the room.

My only trouble with it is that I don't really want it to end. Although when those end credits do eventually roll, I can console myself with the fact that there are three new Neptunia games out there that I haven't played yet — strategy RPG Hyperdevotion Noire: Goddess Black Heart, the rather Senran Kagura-esque brawler Hyperdimension Neptunia U and probably the most exciting offering: PS4 title Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory II, a game that, if I don't own a PlayStation 4 by then, will almost certainly make me go out and buy one immediately the moment it is released.

Yes, I'm a fan. And unashamed of that fact. It's a series that consistently makes me smile; given how much I love it now, it's rather odd to (re)discover today that I've only been playing these games since January of last year. But I hope I'll be able to continue enjoying them for many years to come yet.

1767: More Weird Dreams

Page_1Had another in my increasingly lengthy line of peculiar dreams last night — the kind that somehow manages to stick in your memory after you wake up. There was nothing lavatorial involved this time around, however.

There was, however, nudity.

I dreamed I was at work. Boring, sure, but I had just returned to work after a few days away, so it's understandable it was on my mind. My dream work wasn't quite the same as my actual work, however; for some reason, I was doing my day job as normal, only I was sat at a computer at a work surface on the outside of the "Maths area" from my secondary school — the large, open-plan area that was often turned into one or two improvised extra classrooms depending on the size of that particular year's cohort.

I was also naked.

For some reason, my nudity didn't seem to bother any of my colleagues, who were coming and going around me much as they do in my actual office. None of them were naked, but it was almost as if they didn't see the fact that I was. I, on the other hand, was very much conscious of the fact that I didn't have any clothes on, and it felt like it wasn't an entirely deliberate decision to be there in the nip in the first place. It's not that someone had forcibly taken my clothes off or anything; my clothes had just simply ceased to be at some point during the working day, and I had seemingly figured that the best means of dealing with this was just to sit down and get on with my work as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on, despite the fact that almost everything save for the work I was doing and the people around me was out of the ordinary.

Eventually, my colleague Tony came up to me, and I stiffened — not like that, you filthy pervert — in preparation for, if you'll pardon the obvious pun, a dressing-down due to my lack of clothing. It didn't happen, however; Tony had come over to me to offer a different kind of feedback, and it had nothing to do with my bare bum or winky.

It turned out all the work I had been doing all morning was in the wrong language. I don't know how this would have happened, given that all the work I do is in English anyway (with the odd document in Welsh when appropriate — though thankfully for my total ignorance of the Welsh language I don't have to actually write these) but it had somehow happened today, the day when I was working naked. I'm not even sure which language was the "wrong" language — thinking back on it now at the end of the day, I have German in my mind for some reason, but I often have German on the mind because it's an inherently entertaining language to me — but Tony was absolutely adamant that all the work I had done was in the wrong language, and needed to be sorted out.

I then woke up before I could sort it out, and it was time to go to work. I made doubly sure I was wearing trousers before I left the house.

1766: Time for the Bullying to Stop

Over the weekend, mankind enjoyed a significant step forward in the field of space travel. Unmanned spacecraft Rosetta successfully detached its probe, named Philae, and landed on Comet 67P, aka Chryumov-Grasimenko. It was the culmination of a ten-year mission for Dr Matt Taylor and his colleagues at the European Space Agency, and a historic moment for humanity: we finally had the chance to examine a comet up close, and perhaps make some steps forward in understanding the way the universe works; how the solar system formed; perhaps even how there came to be life on this planet.

As much as it was a historic moment for humanity, then, imagine how Dr Matt Taylor felt as a significant portion of his life's work finally came to fruition as the probe successfully touched down and began transmitting data back to Earth.

Then imagine how Dr Matt Taylor felt when confronted with a giddy press more concerned with his sartorial choices than with the scientific milestone he had just passed — the shirt in question being a rather loud Hawaiian-style number featuring rather vivid, camp, retro-style imagery of women in PVC outfits shooting guns and generally looking pretty badass. (A shirt, I might add, made for and given to him as a gift by his friend Elly Prizeman.)

"I don't care if you landed a spacecraft on a comet," read a headline on The Verge put together by the two-person team — yes, this garbage took two people to put together — of former Polygon editor Chris Plante and his colleague Arielle Duhaime-Ross, "your shirt is sexist and ostracizing." And this was far from the only article published that day attacking him and his wardrobe rather than celebrating his achievements.

We don't have to imagine how Dr Matt Taylor felt. Because it was captured on film.

Can you imagine. Can you imagine reaching the culmination of a ten-year project, making such a significant step forward, and then some blowhard on the Internet telling you that your shirt is directly responsible for women not wanting to enter the fields of science, technology, engineering and mathematics? Can you imagine having to deal with abuse seemingly supported by the mainstream media, whom you previously thought would be keen to celebrate your achievement but now are, quite rightly, somewhat wary of?

Welcome to a world dominated by bullies.

The Internet has brought with it many great things, one of the most powerful being the principle that "everyone has a voice". The Internet has done more to advance the concept of free speech than pretty much anything else in the world, but while some people use this for good — to share information, to reach out to people who need help, to make friends in far-flung corners of the world without having to physically travel there — there are others who use it for ill. To lie, to cheat, to accuse, to blow things out of proportion, to bully.

This particular breed of unpleasant individual has been seemingly growing in numbers — or, if not numbers then certainly prominence — in the last few years, largely thanks to social networking sites Twitter and Tumblr. Ostensibly concerned with admirable-sounding concepts such as "social justice" and feminism, these individuals purport to be progressive thinkers who want to make the world a better place for everyone, but in actual fact are nasty, narrow-minded bullies who simply attack anyone who doesn't see the world in the same way they do.

When you have Boris fucking Johnson calling you out on your bullshit, you should probably rein it in a bit:

The mission is a colossal achievement. Millions of us have been watching Philae's heart-stopping journey. Everyone in this country should be proud of Dr Taylor and his colleagues, and he has every right to let his feelings show.

Except, of course, that he wasn't crying with relief. He wasn't weeping with sheer excitement at this interstellar rendezvous. I am afraid he was crying because he felt he had sinned. He was overcome with guilt and shame for wearing what some people decided was an "inappropriate" shirt on television.

Why was he forced into this humiliation? Because he was subjected to an unrelenting tweetstorm of abuse. He was bombarded across the Internet with a hurtling dustcloud of hate, orchestrated by lobby groups and politically correct media organisations.

And so I want, naturally, to defend this blameless man. And as for all those who have monstered him and convicted him in the kangaroo court of the Web — they should all be ashamed of themselves.

Sadly, Dr Matt Taylor's trials were far from the first time this sort of outrage has erupted, and it will be far from the last time this happens, too. These supposed advocates of social justice — referred to in the vernacular by their opponents as "social justice warriors" or "SJWs" — are renowned for two things: taking offence at everything it's possible to take offence at, and then bullying people into submission, often until those suffering the bullying end up apologising, as Dr Taylor did.

This sounds ridiculous, but it's all too painfully familiar for me. I was bullied repeatedly throughout primary and secondary school — and once again at one of my previous workplaces — and the execution was exactly the same. Wear down the victim's defences with repeated, unprovoked, unwarranted attacks until they snap in one way or another — be it violently, at which point the bullies can point at the victim and say "look how violent they're being!", or tearfully, as in Dr Taylor's case, at which point the bullies can point and laugh at the victim and claim that they're only upset because they know they did wrong — and then move on in the knowledge of a job "well done".

It keeps happening, too, and these people never get called on it because they wield a considerable amount of influence and power — influence and power that lets them get away with a whole lot of nonsense.

Consider, if you will, the recent case of Independent Games Festival judge Mattie Brice, an outspoken, anti-men feminist who has claimed to be "leaving" the games industry on several occasions due to the abuse she was supposedly receiving.

Brice tweeted that she was "automatically rating low any games with men in them" during the course of her IGF judging duties and that she was "loving all this power". Understandably, this tweet — whether or not made in jest — upset a number of people, who complained to the IGF, who subsequently, admirably and promptly asked politely that she, you know, stop doing that lest people think that their judging was rigged. Brice then complained publicly to her Twitter followers about how she was being "harassed" and how the IGF were treating her poorly, and continued until the IGF issued an apology, not herHer defence in all this? "It was a joke" — the last fallback of the bully, and an excuse I heard many a time when working as a teacher. It was never, ever, true, and you'll forgive me for being skeptical of this particular instance being a "joke" when we're talking about a person who made a game called "Destroy All Men" and has often posted anti-men rants on Twitter.

And lest you think I'm singling out Brice here, she is far from the only one; she's simply one of the most recent examples. I've thankfully remained largely free from this sort of nonsense up until now (though it remains to be seen if this blog post will attract zealots) but I've witnessed friends and former colleagues being attacked too many times over the last few years for me to sit here continuing to bite my lip.

YouTuber and PC gaming enthusiast TotalBiscuit demonstrated a good understanding of the issue in a recent post, and came to what is quite possibly the crux of this whole social justice thing and why it bugs me so much:

It's so goddamn American.

A lot of this social justice stuff seems to be focused on a very American set of ideals and circumstances that doesn't take into account much going on outside the country's borders. I mean the idea that racism against white people doesn't exist: let's take that one on for a second. [Fellow YouTuber and Irishman] Miracle of Sound accurately pointed out the genocide perpetrated against a portion of the Irish population and the hundreds of years of oppression that they suffered under the English. Sounds pretty damn racist to me.

The concept of white privilege is very American, too. You'll find a lot of British people, particularly Northerners like myself, bemused by it. I grew up in pit towns, or should I say, ex-pit towns, because Thatcher destroyed our economy when she broke the miners' unions and put a lot of people out of work. Our towns were vast white majorities but I can safely say we had no privilege, no advantages for being white. Some of the richest and most successful people in our towns were Indian and Pakistani.

He's absolutely right. These social justice types take a very American — specifically, West Coast — view of the world and assume it is the correct one, then shout down anyone who doesn't agree with them. They release the hounds on Twitter; they publicly shame them on Tumblr; they encourage the media to buy in to the narrative, and, worryingly, they succeed. Compare, for example, the media portrayal of consumer revolt "Gamergate" as a misogynist hate campaign that wants to drive women out of gaming with the reality of it being one of the most articulate, passionate, genuine, diverse, intelligent and inclusive — albeit at times somewhat ill-focused — groups of gamers of all genders, races and creeds that I've ever observed. (As an aside, I haven't involved myself in Gamergate's activities — as a former member of the press I don't agree with everything they stand for, though I feel they do have a number of fair points to be made — but I have spent a couple of weeks lurking around their regular online haunts to see what made them tick. It's been eye-opening to see the dissonance.)

It is worth clarifying at this juncture — and it pisses me off that I have to add this disclaimer — that I am not against the concept of "social justice" or, more accurately, equality. Quite the opposite; I believe in equal opportunities and equal, fair treatment for everyone, and my behaviour towards other people in my own life reflects this. Meanwhile, however, these keyboard crusaders make themselves immune to criticism by simply responding to any critics with "so you're against social justice, are you? You're against progressiveness?" but there is a right way and a wrong way to go about things — and bullying people until they seemingly agree with you is very much the wrong way to go about it. That is what this post is about, not about standing against the very principles of progressiveness.

All this has been going on for several years now — longtime readers will doubtless recall a number of posts where I've alluded to this in the past, and I've seen more friends than I'd care to mention either fall victim to these Internet bully mobs for a careless word at the wrong time or get swept up in their twisted ideology, never to have a rational word to say ever again — and it's time it stopped.

Why do I bring this up now? Why do I feel that this one lone blog post can make a difference?

Well, frankly, I don't; I am but one voice shouting into the void, and I would doubtless be argued to be a textbook example of a white cishet male privileged neckbeard shitlord (yes, this is genuinely something that these believers in "social justice" call people), but it's worth mentioning — particularly as the debacle over Dr Matt Taylor's shirt has brought this whole sorry situation very much into the public eye. I hope that this helps more people to see what has been brewing in online culture for a few years now — and I hope it helps put a stop to it.

This is not a move towards a progressive society. It's a move towards 1984-style Thought Policing, and it's not the direction that we as a society should be moving.

The bullying needs to stop. And it needs to stop now.

1765: Hours of Entertainment

Page_1One of the best things about the Japanese games I tend to play in preference to anything else is simultaneously one of the most frustrating things.

I'm referring to the question of game length.

In an age where the public are seemingly ever more likely to rate interactive entertainment in terms of a "money per hours" ratio — look at the drubbing Gone Home got from certain quarters who felt that $20 was too expensive for the 2-3 hours of gameplay it offered — it should be abundantly clear to anyone who plays them that Japanese games, for the most part, consistently offer the absolute best value in terms of bang for your buck on the market.

Take Senran Kagura Burst, for example, which I finally pummelled into submission and 100% completion over the weekend during downtime between activities. This is a game that is essentially a spiritual successor to the arcade brawlers of yore — games like Final Fight, Streets of Rage, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Asterix: The Arcade Game and The Simpsons Arcade Game, to name but a few favourites from my own youth.

Unlike those brawlers, however, which typically tended to be no more than four or five levels long — they needed to theoretically be completable on a single coin credit and in a single sitting, after all — it took me in excess of 50 hours to complete all the levels in Senran Kagura Burst, and there's plenty more I could do after completing all the levels once: try for an A-rank on all of them; try and level up all the characters to 50; try and unlock all the characters' "balance" modes through using them in different ways; try to complete all the levels in the challenging "Frantic" mode; try to beat all the bosses with special moves; and try to see all the bosses' special moves without dying. Were I to tackle some of those additional challenges — and I'm not ruling out the possibility, as I enjoyed Senran Kagura Burst one hell of a lot — I'm sure that could easily put a significant number of extra hours on the clock.

Notably, though, a lot of this "extra" stuff is optional. You can romp through the main storyline of Senran Kagura Burst, ignoring all side missions and some of the clever things you can do with the characters, in probably about 10 hours or so, if that. (Most of that time will be reading the game's lengthy visual novel sections, which are skippable after you've completed that mission at least once.) And in doing so, you'll have had a satisfyingly complete experience from start to finish — particularly as the game's structure effectively feels like you're getting two (rather similar) games for the price of one thanks to the story unfolding from two different, parallel perspectives that meet up at various points.

The same is true for many other Japanese games, with RPGs being the clearest example. Your average Japanese RPG these days will take anywhere between 20 and 100 hours to clear first time through, assuming you don't just plough straight through to the ending, and that you take on a bit of side content and spend a bit of time fine-tuning your characters. After that, though, you have a choice: set it aside, satisfied that you've seen the conclusion to the story, or continue playing in the hope of enjoying everything else the game has to offer — often referred to as "post-game". Many modern RPGs also offer a "New Game Plus" mode, in which you can carry across certain things from your previous playthrough into a new run — the exact things you can carry across vary according to the game, but often include things like character levels, unlocked skills, equipment, secret areas uncovered and all manner of other goodies. This tends to turn you into a satisfyingly unstoppable powerhouse at the outset of your second playthrough as your buffed-up character cuts through enemies like butter, but is often necessary to take on some of the biggest challenges the game has to offer. Some games even withhold their toughest bosses and dungeons until post-game or New Game Plus, providing you with an incentive to continue playing even after the credits have rolled.

Even seemingly "short" Japanese games have a massive amount of longevity, too; take your average "bullet hell" shooter, for example, which typically follows the arcade machine structure of theoretically allowing someone to clear it on a single credit and in a single sitting. The true challenge of these games, however, comes from perfecting your game — achieving that single-credit clear (often known as a 1CC — 1 Credit Clear), beating your last high score, topping the worldwide leaderboards. The latter aspect in particular can become enormously competitive, and in the case of many shmups, requires you to fathom out an initially Byzantine-seeming scoring system in order to take maximum advantage of it.

And this isn't even getting into the truly, directly competitive titles such as fighting games, which have potentially limitless replayability if you're actually any good at them. (I am not, so I tend to play through the story mode, if there is one, and then be done, perhaps with an occasional two-player local match with friends if they're up for it.) Or driving games with ongoing online competition. Or all manner of other joyful experiences.

I'm not saying Western games don't offer any of this longevity — anyone who's super-into Call of Duty's multiplayer mode is doubtless raising their hand and going "Um…" right now — but for my money, and particularly in the single-player space, Japanese games can't be beaten for value in terms of how much entertainment you'll get for your £40.

1764: An Outing with Owls

It's our second (and final) full day here at Center Parcs. We both woke up extremely stiff all over after what was a pretty busy day yesterday, so we had a relaxing morning. We headed over to a cafe in the main plaza area to have some breakfast — a pretty magnificent Eggs Royale (Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon instead of ham) accompanied by spinach and some really nice if slightly salty crispy potato bits.

After that, we had a little wander around the shops in the plaza, which we hadn't really explored a great deal. We paid particular attention to the sweet shop, which offered the typically overpriced pick and mix, a selection of American sweets (including Nerds, Runts and Gobstoppers, the latter two of which I haven't seen for years), some nice looking ice-cream and a selection of fudge that would put Cornwall's finest to shame. We came away with a box full of fudge of various flavours and have been enjoying that over the course of the day. Pro-tip: chocolate fudge with Oreos in it is proper delicious.

Our main activity for the day was "An Outing with Owls", which we signed up for largely on the promise of being able to see some owls, since owls are pretty cool. I wasn't quite sure what to expect from the session, but it turned out to be a lot of fun, with everyone getting the opportunity to get their falconry on and let owls of various sizes land on their (leather glove-protected) hands while they nommed on bits of chicken. These well-trained birds swooping from person to person is an impressive thing to witness, and not a little disconcerting when one comes flying straight for you before perching politely on your hand until it's had something to eat.

We got to see a selection of owls, ranging from a barn owl to a Great Grey, which, true to its name, was both grey and massive. (And dubbed "Clock Owl" by Andie and I, due to the fact that when it was sat on its perch prior to the session, it had the size, shape and appearance of a rather feathery mantelpiece clock.) There was also a South American burrowing owl, which was kind of adorable, too; rather than swooping around as the larger owls did, this tiny little thing preferred to scurry around on the floor, then occasionally leap and fly up onto anywhere that took its fancy — knees, hands, shoulders and even, on one particularly memorable occasion, the top of a gentleman's hat.

We came back to the apartment for a well-earned rest after that, and we're shortly to have one final night-time session in the Subtropical Swimming Paradise before grabbing some dinner.

It's been a very pleasant — if quite expensive! — couple of days away, and I predict it will be quite tough to go back to reality on Tuesday! Such is the way with holidays, though; good times have to end at some point and we all have to make our way back to the humdrum nature of our daily existences.

Still, for now, there's still more to enjoy, so we're going to make the most of it.

1763: Fun-Filled Day

A rather pleasant day all round, really, though my aching body will attest to the fact that we've done a whole lot more than we'd usually do on a Saturday. That's probably not a terrible thing, mind you.

We kicked off the day with a substantial breakfast courtesy of the awesome "breakfast packs" sold at the on-site supermarket, the Parc Market. This contained four sausages — decent sausages, too, not cheap crap — along with six slices of bacon (six!) and two lumps of black pudding. We also supplemented it with some eggs — because what sort of breakfast doesn't have eggs? — and some hash browns. It was tasty, if rather filling.

After letting that lead weight settle in our stomachs a bit, we headed over for our first foray into the Subtropical Swimming Paradise. The Center Parcs I'd previously been to several times was the Elveden Forest one rather than this one here in Longleat, but I was expecting the pool to be almost if not completely identical. Sure enough, the layout was a little bit different, but all the same things were there — the lazy river, the two flumes, the terrifying fast slide (which appears to have been remodeled into two separate, smaller, single-person slides rather than the wide, multi-person slide it once was and, of course, the Wild Water Rapids. There's also a wonderful warm pool outdoors that leads into the aforementioned Rapids, and an even warmer jacuzzi just off that. The contrast between hot and cold when you get into these pools and feel the cool air on your skin while the warm water heats up your body is rather wonderful.

After a bit of exploring everything the pool had to offer, we headed to the first of two "extra" activities we'd booked for the weekend: a spot of target archery tuition. This was a fairly substantial walk away from the main plaza building and involved a little bit of getting lost amid the many identical-looking streets of villas along the way, but we eventually got there on time to shoot a bunch of arrows.

I've done archery a couple of times in the past, and I've always enjoyed it despite not being all that good at it — my score in the competition at the end of the session was the second lowest. It's inherently satisfying to feel that release of the bowstring and to watch your arrow arc gracefully through the air on the way to its destination, be that the bull's eye of a target or the protective fabric at the back of the range. And that "thunk" of an arrow actually hitting the target? Wonderful stuff.

Andie did pretty well at the archery, beating my score by a considerable margin — although my pride dictates that I should mention at this point that I was shooting at the "grown-up" targets that were a fair distance away while she was shooting at the medium-range targets for beginners and/or short people. She still did great, though; evidently all that Bard training in Final Fantasy XIV is good for something.

After that, we caught the "land train" (actually a road-based train stopping at various destinations around the park) to the Village Square area, which we hadn't explored previously. This small area, separate from the main plaza, features a few nice little restaurants and a pottery workshop. We were interested in the former aspect, specifically an intriguing little establishment called The Pancake House. It did not disappoint, providing huge and delicious Dutch-style pancakes (with the option of American-style pancake stacks instead if you prefer) topped with a variety of both sweet and savoury options. Andie went for a rather delicious apple affair that had lovely soft cooked apples along with plenty of caramel, cinnamon sugar and all manner of other goodness. I had an equally caramelly pancake, but mine featured lumps of honeycomb rather than the apples. It was damn good, but it was the second lead weight of the day to hit our stomach, which made the walk back to our accommodation rather hard work!

After a break back at the apartment, we headed out to the Subtropical Swimming Paradise for an evening swim as I'd previously enthused that it was very nice at night time. Sure enough, it didn't disappoint; the outdoor pools in particular were lovely in the dark of the evening, with the underwater lighting highlighting the steam rising from these warm pools, providing a lovely relaxing, chilled-out environment that was blissfully largely child-free at that time in the evening.

After that, we headed back, ate steak, chilled out, played My Little Pony cards, went to bed. Then I got up and wrote this. Now I'm going back to bed.

Not a bad way to spend a Saturday, to be sure.

1762: Minibreak

It's Andie's 30th birthday soon, so I wanted to do something nice. Rather than taking the "present" route, however, I decided to book us some time away at a place I've been wanting to come back to for many years now: Center Parcs.

For the unfamiliar, Center Parcs is a chain of holiday villages scattered throughout the UK and across Europe. They have that holiday village "thing" of being largely identical to one another, regardless of which one you go to, so the fact that Andie and I have come to the much closer Longleat Forest incarnation of the chain rather than the Elveden Forest one I went to several times as a young 'un is still filling me with a certain degree of nostalgia — plus, I won't lie, a pleasing amount of feeling that I'm a "proper" adult for booking something like this and my parents not being involved in any way whatsoever.

Anyway. I have very fond memories of my various previous visits to Center Parcs. They're situated in idyllic forest locations, and provide plenty of opportunities to walk and cycle around without having to worry about cars — cars are only permitted on site on Fridays and Mondays, which are also the only days you can check in or out. The accommodation is good-quality, too, taking the form of either small apartments (which we've gone for) or, if you're in a larger group, villas and log cabins of various sizes. All of these are furnished very nicely, kept in good condition and set up in such a way that you can self-cater your holiday if you so desire; those feeling lazy and/or flush with cash, meanwhile, can take advantage of the various restaurants available in the main plaza building — which, this time around, we're conveniently about a minute's walk from, which is nice.

There's a wide variety of different activities on offer at each Center Parcs, although on previous visits I didn't partake in that many of them. This time around, we're going to try some archery tomorrow and spend some time with some owls on Sunday. I predict we'll probably be spending a fair amount of the rest of our time at the "Subtropical Swimming Paradise" — the huge pool complex that forms the centrepiece of each Center Parcs plaza, and a place that I fondly remember as one of the best water-based experiences ever.

The Subtropical Swimming Paradise is pretty great, for numerous reasons. Firstly, it's huge, providing a large swimming pool-cum-wave machine pool for actually swimming properly in, a slow river to get caught in, several excellent water slides (a long, slow flume, a short fast flume and a large white straight-down slide) and a white water rapids to fling yourself down with enthusiasm. Secondly, it's warm — that "subtropical" bit isn't an exaggeration, since the whole place is deliberately made warm and humid to feel like you're really on holiday while you're in there; it also allows various tropical plants scattered around the area to thrive, giving the whole place a really nice look, particularly when compared to your usual municipal pool. Thirdly, it's kind of beautiful at night-time — there are several outdoor pools lit by coloured underwater lighting, and the warmth of the water combined with the cool night air makes for a very pleasant experience. Going down the Rapids, which is largely outdoors, is also a lot of fun at night-time.

Today we've had a fairly relaxed day getting here, doing a bit of shopping for tonight's dinner and tomorrow's breakfast (though we forgot eggs and oil — back to the shop tomorrow morning!) and booking our activities for the next couple of days. Tomorrow, as previously noted, we're going to shoot arrows at things and probably spend a fair amount of time in the pool, then the day after we're going to hang out with some owls. Exactly what we're going to do with the owls remains to be seen, but Andie likes owls so it seemed like a fun thing to do.

Anyway. Being away from home means being away from my Mac, Comic Life and Paintbrush so no comics for a few days, I'm afraid. I'm sure you'll survive, though. You'll just have to read my thrilling prose instead, huh?

1761: Sensitised

If you buy in to the popular perception that various forms of media — particularly movies, TV and video games — desensitise people to horrific and violent things, then you are an idiot.

Okay, that might be a bit strong, even if it's what I believe. But the experience I went through this morning certainly drove home the fact that reality is reality, and fantasy is fantasy.

It was something I'd seen many times in the virtual world. Something I'd deliberately caused to happen many times in the virtual world. And yet seeing it in reality — even for just the fleeting moment that I did — was horrifying and disturbing.

I was driving to work as I normally do, along the M27, which regular readers will know is a road I despise for numerous reasons, not least of which is the fact that it gets very busy and seems to have more than its fair share of "incidents" and "accidents", according to the overhead electronic signs. (I'm not actually sure what the difference between the two is, but I know that they both cause enormous delays on a nearly daily basis.)

It was early in the morning. The sun was just starting to rise, bathing the Eastern sky, which I was driving towards, in a pretty peachy-orange glow peeking out from behind the clouds. The day was dawning, and it was just about becoming possible to see things without the assistance of artificial lighting, though the streetlamps were still illuminated and most drivers still had their headlamps on.

The traffic wasn't heavy — as I've noted recently, I've started leaving for work a lot earlier in the morning than I had done, as this allows me to miss the rush hour jams on the way to work, though I usually get caught in the beginnings of them on the way back when I leave. There was a steady flow of cars in both directions, though; people were on their way to work, though not yet in the numbers that would swarm onto the devil road just an hour or so later.

In other words, it was a perfectly normal morning. I was driving along, minding my own business, listening to some Emerson, Lake and Palmer and trying to make up my mind whether I was enjoying it or not, when suddenly it happened.

Over on the other side of the motorway, a small white van spun out of control then flipped over in what I can only describe as a movie-style crash. I was passing it by in the other direction as it happened, so I didn't see the aftermath, but what I did see was enough to etch itself onto my memory for the rest of the day.

It didn't look as if the van had actually hit anything; it looked like a loss of control. I wouldn't have expected a simple loss of control to result in the vehicle leaping in the air and corkscrewing, however, but that's what it did; it was a crash of the ilk you'd see in a video game like Burnout, only it was really happening. There was someone inside that van; there were people in the streams of cars that were speeding towards it, unaware that disaster had just struck a few hundred yards ahead of them. As I say, I didn't see any of the aftermath, but I would be very surprised if there weren't at least a couple of other cars involved after the fact — and I'd be even more surprised if anyone managed to get out of that without at least a few injuries.

It was a strange thing to witness; I felt surreal and disconnected, but at the same time painfully aware that it had really happened just a few metres away from me. It occupied my thoughts for the remainder of my journey to work, particularly as I saw the traffic starting to build up in the opposite direction and, with admirable response time, the emergency services start to make their way down the road to deal with the situation.

I don't know how it happened or indeed what happened next; I hope that anyone involved in what looked like a horrific accident is as all right as it's possible to be when something like that happens.

And if you're heading out onto the roads in these wet and windy winter months, particularly first thing in the morning? Do please be careful.