1346: Exposition

I'm off to the Eurogamer Expo tomorrow to cover a bunch of interesting stuff for USgamer. It should be a fun experience, particularly because since Eurogamer's parent company Gamer Network is also the parent company of USgamer, I'll be there as "staff" and consequently should be able to wander around fairly freely and get hands-on with things without too much difficulty.

I last went to the Eurogamer Expo back in 2010. This was the same year I went to PAX for the first time, and it was interesting to compare the two. They're very different events, of course; PAX is more of a cultural convention, while Eurogamer Expo that year (and possibly still is) more of a traditional consumer-facing trade show, with booths, queues and lots of things to play if you can be arsed to line up for them. Eurogamer does have a bunch of developer presentations, however, and it's great to hear and see devs speak about their upcoming or recent projects. Peter Molyneux may be the master of broken promises, for example, but it's easy to see how people get caught up in his grand posturing on stage.

I'm interested to see a selection of things around the show, and I have plenty of time to do so. I'm particularly interested to have a look at the next-gen consoles and see whether they're noticeably better from current offerings, and I'm meeting up with a few smaller developers who are working on some interesting-sounding titles such as top-down bullet hell/Smash TV combo Assault Android Cactus, the NFL-inspired follow-up to Frozen Synapse, Frozen Endzone and Mike Bithell's intriguing-sounding new stealth game Volume. I should also hopefully get a chance to see my friend Mitu, whose intriguing social media-themed strategy game/RPG/strangely undefinable thing Redshirt is looking pretty great, as well as inching ever-closer to release.

I should probably get some sleep beforehand, though. Tomorrow is going to be a long and hopefully exciting day, and that situation will continue for the next couple of days, then I'll be back on Sunday. Hopefully I'll have some interesting things to write about while I'm away, and a chance to get a bit of a rest on Sunday before next week kicks off once again!

Hopefully it's also payday within the next couple of days… London ain't cheap. And I need to buy a notebook. I do things old-school.

1345: A Grand Old Time

I'll probably write something in more depth over on USgamer tomorrow, but I wanted to give some immediate reactions to having just finished Grand Theft Auto V.

Short version: I was extremely impressed. I was expecting to just duck into it for a little while in order to be able to write about it during its launch week, but I found myself hooked in various ways: the story, the world, the characters. The whole thing is put together in such a marvellously coherent way that it just works really well — and I barely even touched all the largely irrelevant side stuff.

GTA V has drawn a bunch of flak for various reasons, but from what I can tell, it's business as usual in GTA-land. In fact, GTA V nails the balance between biting satire and straight-up drama better than any previous installment in the series — there's always been a certain dissonance between the fact that you can freely whip out a rocket launcher and start blowing shit up and the actual linear story that Rockstar is trying to tell.

The interesting thing about GTA V is that a lot of its most "offensive" stuff is down to the player. The notorious "shag a prostitute then run her over to get your money back" thing that people always fixate on? That was emergent player behaviour that people discovered in Grand Theft Auto III. Murderous rampages? You're free to commit them any time you see fit, but there will be consequences — some people will shoot back, other times, you'll attract the attention of the police. The story and all the bad things you commit in the name of the ongoing narrative? It's always your choice to proceed down that path; if you'd rather play the game as a "city living" simulator, you can do. If you'd rather play the game in an attempt to steal the most heavily-guarded vehicles as possible, you can do. If you want to ignore the structured content, you can do — and there's very little "unlocking" of things to do, unlike earlier installments, so you have pretty much free roam of the enormous map from the get-go.

I was surprised that GTA V's plot actually hooked me, though. I enjoyed spending time with Michael, Trevor and Franklin, each of whom are interesting, well-realised characters and all distinctive in their own right. None of them — not even Trevor, whom a lot of critics have fixated on — are one-dimensional characters, and each have their own personal story arcs to follow amid the overall plot. The story itself has a good blend of dark humour and serious(ish) crime drama, and there's some fantastic setpieces. There's potential for different playthroughs to unfold slightly differently thanks to some (admittedly limited) choices — but the game caters to and copes with these differences with unique dialogue.

Outside of the main story components, the missions are well-designed, too; one of the strengths of the open-world structure is that it provides the scope for you to tackle situations as you see fit, and the game embraces this philosophy wholeheartedly on a number of occasions. There are assassination missions where you need to figure out the best way to approach a target, for example; and later in the game, you have to steal some cars based on limited photographic information. This latter one really impressed me, actually; I found myself walking rather than driving around the city, looking carefully for the landmarks I was supposed to be seeking out, and it wasn't a frustrating experience at all — it felt like walking around a real city looking for something.

GTA V has its elements that will make people uncomfortable or turn them off, sure, but there's little denying it's a great game and a fantastic technical achievement. I'm glad I actually took the time to play it through — I was all set to pass it by after getting frustrated with all the frankly ridiculous hype, which I still think was completely overboard — and would recommend that if you've been on the fence about it, you should give it a go.

1344: Problem?

I fucking hate the word "problematic".

I've been struggling to articulate exactly what it is that bugs me so much about "problematic," (and please imagine me screwing up my face, using a sarcastic voice and making exaggerated air-quotes while you read that) but an idle insomnia-fueled wander around the Internet the other night led me to the Urban Dictionary definition of the word, which conveniently sums up pretty much how I feel about this word and how it it used today:

A corporate-academic weasel word used mainly by people who sense that something may be oppressive, but don't want to do any actual thinking about what the problem is or why it exists. Also frequently used in progressive political settings among White People of a Certain Education to avoid using herd-frightening words like "racist" or "sexist."

I've heard the term "weasel word" in the past, but it had somehow slipped out of my mind. Reading this definition brought it all back, though, and made me realise what a wonderfully descriptive term it is. "Weasel word" — a word or phrase designed to weasel your way into (or out of) a difficult topic without saying anything truly confrontational. Or sometimes without saying anything of substance at all.

Alongside the fact that "problematic" is a particularly slimy example of a weasel word, it also bugs me that it seems to be the first and only word people turn to when attempting to discuss Important Matters of Social Justice That We're All Supposed to Get Really Fucking Angry About. Whenever it's used, it just makes me think of people trying to sound more intelligent than they actually are. In fact, what it makes me think of — and here's a random memory for you — is a time shortly after my Grandad Davison died and my parents were having a Serious Conversation in the front of the car. I was very young at the time, but I felt that it was Important for me to join in said Serious Conversation, so I listened, nodded and murmured "Mm. True. Very true," at moments when I thought it would be appropriate, but actually ended up looking like a bit of a tool. I get the same feeling any time people start dropping "problematic" all over the place in conversation — like they're trying to have a conversation that they're not really quite mentally equipped for. Unfair? Perhaps. But that's how I feel.

My teeth-gritting annoyance at the use of this word was actually concerning me somewhat since so many people were using it, so I looked it up and attempted to determine if it was actually some sort of established sociological term, but no, I found no evidence to suggest that. It's just a word that's caught on and become fashionable for some inexplicable reason — much like "entitled" was a year or two back — and now everyone and their radical feminist dog is using it. The English language is rich, diverse and full of multiple ways to say the same thing. Use it.

If you're similarly frustrated with the prevalence of this weasel word and want to do something about it, may I suggest that when Christmas rolls around, you purchase a thesaurus for everyone on your Twitter and/or Facebook feeds who has expressed an interest in being some sort of militant crusader for social justice. And maybe by next year we'll have a new overused word to get sick of.

1343: Melancholy Contemplations

Lara, one of our two pet rats, is not very well, and I'm very worried about her. Earlier in the week, she started losing her balance somewhat, with her head tilted over to the side. She was obviously finding it difficult to judge distances and maintain her balance on things, and looked rather wobbly and unsteady when climbing. She has never been the most graceful rat there was — despite her name coming from her being "the climby one" when we first got her and her former cagemate Willow (who was "the shy one") — but she's always been happy to leap halfway up the cage  and clamber around, particularly when there's the prospect of food involved.

The situation continued for a day or two, so Andie and I decided that it would be a good idea to take her to the vet. I don't mind admitting that the cowardly part of myself was worried about this for the prospect of getting some bad news or, worse, having to have her put to sleep. Fortunately, the prognosis wasn't awful — there was the distinct possibility that it was just either a chest or ear infection, and so we were given some antibiotic medicine to give her twice a day, which will hopefully clear it up.

We've had surprisingly little difficulty giving her the medicine — turns out Lara likes breadsticks enough to not care when one end of them is covered in drugs — but, as antibiotics are wont to do, they seem to have upset her stomach somewhat. It may be my imagination, but it seems like her balance might be slightly better — albeit still not perfect — but her insides are obviously struggling a bit with the antibiotics.

I know that realistically speaking, she is quite an old rat — well over a year old now — and, consequently, probably not much longer for this Earth, but that doesn't make the prospect of potentially saying goodbye to her any easier, particularly when I don't know whether or not she'll be there to greet me in her cheerful rat-like way each morning when I look in on her in the cage. I don't want her to die. I know that she will, eventually — possibly sooner rather than later if her illness doesn't improve — but that doesn't make thinking about it any easier.

Death frightens and disturbs me, you see, whether it's a person or a small furry creature we're talking about. (Spiders and daddy long-legs can fuck off, though; they get put up the Hoover. Yes, some lives are worth more than others to me.) I have had relatively little exposure to death over my life, and as such I haven't quite figured out how I'm supposed to deal with it. I haven't even been to many funerals — one, to my recollection — and the only dead bodies I have ever seen in my life were that of my family's first cat Penny, who died in her sleep one night after very obviously saying goodbye to us, and Lara's former cagemate Willow, who left us well before her time.

Perhaps death and loss gets easier to deal with as you encounter more of it. Perhaps it doesn't. I don't know one way or the other yet, and that in itself worries and scares me.

I hope you get better soon, Lara. I don't want to have to say goodbye to you yet. You are a precious and beloved part of this household, and life won't be the same without you.

Sorry for the morbid post. This has been rattling around inside my head, though, and I needed to get it out, more as a therapeutic exercise than anything else.

1342: Hidden World

I've been continuing to watch Clannad, and I'm thoroughly enamoured with it. I haven't yet finished it, though I am pretty sure how it's going to end and I am also pretty sure that if it follows the path I think it's going to follow it's going to be very, very sad in the way I perversely enjoy so much.

Mild spoilers ahead?

One of the things that has struck me throughout is how quietly weird it is. For the most part, it's your usual sort of slice-of-life story complete with all the clichés that usually involves — someone trying to resurrect a long-dead school club; a harem of female characters who each initially seem to encapsulate one main defining factor but later reveal themselves to have hidden depths and/or dark pasts; a protagonist who is down on his luck but inspired to become a better person by said group of girls.

But then it goes and throws a few curveballs along the way, the first of which is the character Fuko, whose physical presence and relationship with the other characters is seemingly impossible due to the fact that she's really lying in hospital in a coma. After her particular story arc is finished, she disappears, not only from regularly appearing in episodes but from the characters' memories, too — though every so often she shows up for a brief cameo in a future episode, usually in some botched attempt to make a difficult situation better. Since I haven't finished watching the series as a whole yet, I don't know if the deal with Fuko is truly and conclusively explained, or if it's left somewhat open to interpretation. I'd be fine with either, actually, though at my current point 18 episodes deep into the complete run, I'm torn between a few theories.

Then there's the character Kotomi, who initially appears to be the resident socially-inept "weird genius" character, but whom it transpires has some forgotten history with the protagonist. Not only that, but her parents were supposedly researching some sort of theory about when the universe was created, a tiny dimension was sealed away. I don't know if that gets resolved, either.

And then there's the occasional cuts to "the girl who lives alone in a world that has ended" with her mechanical companion. These sequences are almost Nier-like in their bleakness, and at present I have no idea how they fit into the narrative as a whole.

I'm absolutely and completely intrigued by what's going on, though. Someone is clearly going to die at some point, or perhaps they're already dead. There's a feeling of "fever dream" about the whole thing, where it's not quite all making sense yet, but I feel I'm getting closer to the truth.

In other words, I'm very much looking forward to seeing how the whole thing plays out — and it's pretty much a given that I'll be checking out Clannad After Story once I'm done, too. Expect some more spoileriffic thoughts when I've made it through the whole lot.

1341: Life in Los Santos

I'm very impressed with Grand Theft Auto V. Much, much more than I was expecting to be — most notably for the fact that it's actually the story keeping me interested.

Grand Theft Auto has undergone a gradual evolutionary process since its first installment. The first Grand Theft Auto was a fast-action arcade game — you had a score, lives, crazy bonuses and the fact you were driving around being an asshole was largely incidental. Grand Theft Auto II introduced a few additional mechanics, but was still largely a "game" rather than an immersive world and story.

Grand Theft Auto III is where things started to change. Transplanting the action from the top-down maps of earlier installments into a fully three-dimensional city, it was many folks' first encounter with a "sandbox" game, in which you could do as you pleased. That "freedom" was something of an illusion, though; Grand Theft Auto III still had a very "game-like" progression whereby you couldn't make it to the next "level" — the next of Liberty City's three islands — until you had progressed far enough in the structured content. It worked well, though; by the time you finished a region, you knew it really well. That said, if you were booting up the game for the first time on, say, someone else's console and you just wanted to get the great sports cars and cause havoc, there were arbitrary limitations in place.

Vice City took the basic structure of Grand Theft Auto III and removed those restrictions for the most part. The Miami-inspired setting was split between two islands that you could drive back and forth between at will, and there were plenty of things for you to do besides the story missions — though the story itself was interesting in a Scarface sort of way. This was taken to an extreme in San Andreas, which offered three cities and a whole host of countryside in between, with plenty of side things to do along the way, although the early part of the game did reinstate the arbitrary game-like restrictions on where you were "allowed" to go.

Grand Theft Auto IV was another turning point for the series. Although III onwards had had an actual narrative with a beginning, middle and end, IV placed the emphasis on the story rather than freeform chaos. You still had a lot of choice and freedom in how you went about beating the game, but real efforts had clearly been made to make the protagonist an interesting character. For some, however, this went against the grain of what they felt Grand Theft Auto "should" be about — particularly when you started getting regularly harassed on the phone by virtual in-game girlfriends and friends to go and hang out. I personally quite liked it — though not enough, I might add, to ever actually finish it.

And now we have Grand Theft Auto V, a game which is attracting as much cynicism as it is popularity and commercial success. And I'm a bit sad about the cynicism part, because Grand Theft Auto V is doing some clever things, is written well and is a remarkably effective piece of fiction — both from the perspective of its scripted narrative and in the building of its world that presents a skewed, twisted but eerily accurate view of our own society in 2013. At the same time, the open world chaos is still very much present and correct — it just doesn't feel as "gamey" as it once did. And that's good — it shows the series has evolved over time rather than stagnating, because it has.

Grand Theft Auto V has the most seamless transitions between freeform wandering around and scripted narrative that I've ever seen. There's no loading breaks, no fade-outs with mission titles, no "letterboxing" — just one moment you'll be walking around, the next you come across a couple of people talking, you walk up to them and you're seamlessly into a cutscene.

Then there's "the torture scene," a scene that has caused a considerable amount of hand-wringing from people across the industry. (Spoilers ahead, obviously.)

In "the torture mission," two of the game's three protagonists become embroiled in a plot involving the in-game equivalent of the FBI. Having "rescued" a hostage from the CIA-equivalent, said hostage is then kidnapped by the FIB (sic) and dragged to an abandoned warehouse for interrogation. Michael, one of the protagonists, is sent out to find a person — supposedly a threat to national security — based on the information the hostage gives. Trevor, another of the protagonists, stays behind to administer torture and get the hostage to talk.

For the mission, your control flips back and forth between Trevor and Michael several times. As Michael, you have to use the information Trevor finds to locate and assassinate the right person; as Trevor, you have the option of using several different implements to administer torture to the hostage, and you have to actively participate in said torture by following on-screen prompts.

The scene is graphic, horrible, disturbing and unpleasant. Taken out of context, you'd be forgiven for thinking Rockstar had finally gone too far with this scene. Take it in context, meanwhile, and it's entirely appropriate for this scene to be there. It makes sense, and it has something to say. The hostage starts talking almost immediately after the prospect of torture is on the table, and yet as the player we're still forced to administer torture four times in total, reflecting the fact that both Trevor and Michael are very much under the control of the FIB at this point. Trevor, being a psychopath, takes a certain degree of pleasure from administering the torture but is still aware that not performing it would be worse for both him and the hostage. And when it's all over and the FIB agents leave Trevor alone with the hostage to "deal with" him, Trevor instead cuts the hostage's bonds, loads him into his car and drives him to the airport, telling him that his old life is over now and he needs to get as far away from Los Santos as possible.

"Torture is for the torturer," Trevor says to the hostage on the drive. "And for the person giving orders to the torturer. Sometimes it's for the torturee, but only if they're paying well enough. It's a terrible means of getting information."

I had no idea of the latter part of the scene's context from the articles that emerged shortly after the game's release, and it's important. It gives it meaning and a message — whether or not you think it's succeeding in delivering that message is a matter of opinion, of course, but I think it was remarkably effective. One thing I am certain of, though; it's certainly not in there just to court controversy. Like so many other things in Grand Theft Auto V, it's a brutal and biting attack on some of the things about modern culture that we might not want to acknowledge or admit.

Should we have been able to skip it? Should it have come with warnings? Those are questions I can't answer, I'm afraid, but for me, some of the impact of that particular part of the story would have been lost if that scene was not present.

And I'll be honest, I never expected to be sitting here talking about the impact a Grand Theft Auto's story had on me, which is just one of many signs of how far the series has come.

1340: Bzzzzz

Think I've had too much caffeine today. I sometimes feel like caffeine doesn't really affect me all that much, but then I drink as much as I apparently have today and I get all jittery and anxious. It's not an altogether pleasant feeling, but at least I think it's finally wearing off and I just want to sleep. It's like that moment in The Sims 3 where your temporary caffeine buzz positive moodlet wears off and is replaced by a caffeine crash negative movement. Actually, it's not "like" that at all, it just is that.

I should have probably heard the warning signs when I went to work in the coffee shop earlier, and I ordered my usual "first drink of the working day" if I'm working in there — an iced white Americano. I'm pretty sure that up until today, the people there have been making said iced white Americanos wrong, because previously they looked more like iced lattes. (I don't mind; I like iced lattes. Iced Americanos are marginally less calorific, though.)

"Four shots," said the girl serving me to her colleague who was preparing my drink. Four shots? So I was essentially drinking four espressos in one go? Hmm.

I thought nothing of it at the time, and it certainly didn't feel like it had much of a "kick" while I was drinking it, so once I'd got on top of all the work I had to do I had a latte to keep me going through the rest of the afternoon.

That was the tipping point, I think. While it was delicious as usual, once I finished it I started to feel a little queasy. Not to the point of actually wanting to be sick or anything, just… not quite right. And as the day continues to progress, I started to feel more and more anxious and jittery. As I said before, it's not an altogether pleasant feeling.

There's probably a lesson to be learned amid all this somewhere. Will I learn it, though? Probably not. I give it a few days before I do this exact same thing to myself again, completely accidentally.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and try and sleep. Or, failing that, I'm going to stare at the ceiling for a few hours while trying very hard not to let all the chattering inside my brain distract me too much. Or, failing that, I'll go and play some more GTA V, which has hooked me a whole lot more than I thought it would. The police chase I had earlier, which culminated in me driving an open-top sports car up a mountain and then flinging it off the summit at top speed, only to cartwheel several times on the way down and land right way up on the freeway while in the middle of a phone conversation, made it all worthwhile.

Anyway. Sleep. Attempted sleep. Whatever. Bzzzzzzz.

1339: Obligatory GTA Post

So I've been playing Grand Theft Auto V and, as often happens with overly-hyped games that I've started to feel sick of the sight of before they already came out, I've found myself genuinely surprised to be enjoying it.

This doesn't make the "hype" problem any less of a problem, though. I get that people are excited about it and that it's a relatively "important" game from the perspective of it costing a fucking fortune to make and also being one of the last great "big" games of this hardware generation, but the sheer level of hype is actually having something of a negative impact.

You might think that's a contradiction — any publicity is good publicity, after all — but in GTA's case the sheer pressure there is to write something — anything — about this fucking game is leading to what I can't help but feel is a bit of an unrealistic picture.

The cynicism surrounding the game's characters, writing and story is probably the worst thing. Going in to GTA V relatively "blind" having deliberately avoided as much of the hype as I possibly could, I've been surprised at quite how well-written it is. Michael is a sympathetic character prone to bouts of extravagant rage — often manifesting in some of the game's more spectacular setpieces — while Franklin is a character who is clearly much too smart for the life he's been living up until this point.

Trevor, meanwhile, whose missions I finally unlocked this evening, is a genuinely loathsome character, but not in the sense that he stops me wanting to play. On the contrary, his loathsomeness is horrifyingly compelling — particularly as he's not just a blindly raging psychopath and is instead clearly something of a complex character prone to violent mood swings. He's cracking genuinely amusing witticisms one moment; screaming bloody murder (literally) the next. He's certainly memorable.

There's been a lot of hand-wringing over the game's overall sense of morality, and I do think that it's the most graphic, violent GTA we've ever seen. Again, that's not necessarily a bad thing, though; if a story told in a medium known for desensitising people to virtual violence still has the capacity to shock and make you feel uncomfortable, it's doing its job right. Is it necessary? Perhaps not, but this is the story the writers have chosen to tell and the characters they have chosen to create, and in a game so focused on its unfolding plot — and yes, regardless of all the open-world chaos there is on offer, this is very much a game about its plot and characters — I have to respect the writers' decisions. Also, we are talking about a series called Grand Theft Auto — a series which has long been known for its strong focus on deliberately being a tosser.

Interestingly, one thing I've found with GTA is that I want to "method act" the characters. When I'm playing as Michael, I want to play things straight — drive properly and respectfully, not start fights or cause chaos. When I'm Franklin, it's similar — it feels particularly right, as Franklin, to stop for the people who've had their bag snatched, chase down the criminal and then return it to the person who lost it rather than walking off with it. When I'm Trevor, meanwhile, everything goes out of the window; it doesn't feel "wrong" to take the most direct route possible to a destination, even if that means flattening every fence and lamppost along the way; it doesn't feel "wrong" to wander down the street punching random pedestrians in the face.

I had my suspicions before I unlocked him, but now I'm all but completely certain that Trevor is in the game primarily for one reason: to address the most common criticism of GTA IV, which was that the story the game was trying to tell and the freedom to cause carnage were at odds with one another. Using the "method acting" analogy again, it simply didn't feel right to play Niko as a psychopath who randomly attacked people and stood in the middle of the road with a rocket launcher. The simple presence of Trevor in GTA V — plus the ability to give him a massive beard and a ridiculous scraggy mullet just to make him look even more disheveled than he already is — ably addresses this concern while still allowing the rest of the game to unfold its narrative in peace. Well, as much peace as can be expected from a GTA narrative, anyway.

Is GTA V perfect? No, of course not. Does it have issues that could do with resolving? Perhaps, though I'd perhaps argue not to the degree some people are making out. Is it good, though? Absolutely, and if you've been debating whether or not to get it… you should at least give it a look. If it does something that turns you off, fair enough; but it's certainly well worth a look.

1338: Educating Everywhere

I watched an episode of Channel 4's docusoap/fly on the wall show Educating Yorkshire earlier and, as I could have predicted, I found it most enjoyable.

You see, despite my unpleasant experiences at the chalkface a few years back, I still find myself interested in the world of education. I find schools to be fascinating places, with their collection of hundreds or even thousands of diverse people thrown together and expected to survive without killing each other. They're a great source of stories, both from the perspective of the teachers and the pupils, and I am constantly fascinated by fiction set in schools. (This explains my love of the following things: Buffy the Vampire Slayer; appalling high school drama movies; slice of life anime; visual novels)

Educating Yorkshire is set up well to tell some of these supposedly real stories, and it tells them well. Over the course of the single episode I watched today, we learned about the school's headteacher and his ideals; the students' attitudes towards him; the "back stories" of two persistent troublemakers; and a few other things besides. Although everything that happened was mundane to the max, these stories were presented in a compelling manner that made them interesting.

One image I absolutely could not get out of my head, though, was how much typical disciplinary proceedings at a school resemble a police interrogation — or at least one as depicted in the media. Before long, I was picturing Cole Phelps from L.A. Noire yelling at a kid ("[DOUBT] You did it, didn't you, you sick son of a bitch!") and pondering if there might be a market for a video game in which you play a teacher and have to investigate these incredibly mundane transgressions.

Well, I'd play it, even if no-one else would. Though given some of the creative interactive experiences we're starting to get today, now, I can't help but feel I might not be alone!

1337: The Value of Comments (Or the Lack Thereof)

Grand Theft Auto V's reviews came out today — the game itself is out tomorrow.

Unsurprisingly, comments sections the world over erupted into chaos on each individual site's review (although USgamer's has, as ever, remained largely very polite and articulate, which is a trend I sincerely hope continues).

Of particular concern is Gamespot's review, which gave the game 9/10 while still managing to point out the fact that yes, GTA has some issues with women that it really should have probably gotten over by now. My concern isn't with the review itself, which is an interesting, well-argued read; rather, it's with the 3,192 comments that are beneath it at the time of writing — a figure that is literally increasing by the second right now.

What is the value in that comments section? Leaving aside the loathsome content of a significant proportion of those individual comments, what possible value is there in allowing people to comment on a review at such a rate that it becomes literally impossible to follow a single conversation? What possible value is there in 3,216 (yep, it's gone up in just those few words) comments, many of which contain the same ill-informed, bile-spewing opinions? For that matter, even if they didn't contain said bile, what possible value is there in having 3,230 comments beneath a review? Who is going to read all that shit except, possible, judging by Twitter, for people who have a particular taste for masochism?

It's not just Gamespot's review that's a problem, though it, at the time of writing, appears to feature by far the most objectionable people. Destructoid's Jim Sterling has been complaining about commenters once again lambasting him for rating [game x] one score and [game y] another score when they have nothing to do with each other. He notes that he doesn't believe review scores are the problem there, either.

Perhaps they aren't, either; perhaps the problem is the comments section.

The trouble with proposing something drastic like eradicating all comments sections, however, is that they're occasionally valuable — though increasingly we're in a situation where comments sections are only useful and conducive to meaningful discussion on smaller sites such as USgamer, and personal outlets such as this blog. In the case of large-scale sites like IGN and Gamespot, it seems that all comments sections achieve is to give imbeciles a soapbox to stand on and bellow their idiocy from while simultaneously finding like-minded twats to validate their opinions, culminating in the ridiculous sight of people genuinely clamouring for Gamespot to fire the reviewer Carolyn Petit for giving Grand Theft Auto V 9 out of 10 instead of the 10 that they, the people who have not played it yet, think it deserves.

But what can be done? Should IGN and Gamespot just close their comments sections?

Well… Yes, I think they should. They're clearly not adding any value to the conversation. There's no sense in trying to make it a "dialogue" between the site and the readers when the comments come at such a pace and in such a volume that it's impossible for the original writer to engage in discussion with people who actually want to engage in discussion, and in the meantime the braying idiots just get a megaphone with which to bellow their idiotic shit into the void. Shut 'em all off, I say, and leave the discussion to sites with a community small enough to make online interactions actually meaningful; let the big sites become places from which content is just shared and discussed via social media rather than the wretched scum-pits they seem to be becoming today. It'll put the attention back on the actual writers and the things they're saying — and it will probably significantly benefit said writers' mental health, too, because I know I certainly wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of the torrents of abuse some people have been getting today.

3,512 comments.

Can we reboot the Internet?

[EDIT, June 7, 2023: 22,164 comments. Just in case you were curious.]