During quiet moments at work, I, as most people do these days, I suspect, like to pop on a YouTube video or two to cheer myself up and distract from a gradually growing sense of how existence is futile, we’re all sitting atop a doomed planet, and that any “legacy” we might leave behind is largely meaningless.

Today I decided to watch a clip of comedian Jon Richardson talking about men pissing. I present it below for your consideration.

It’s true. Men can’t aim. Well, they can, but they can’t aim well, and at any given moment one is at great risk of one’s penis refusing to accept the commonly agreed laws of physics, and just do something completely unexpected with one’s piss stream. And, inevitably, as Richardson points out, this always happens when you are not at home, making it an embarrassing situation that you have to determine exactly how to deal with.

The most embarrassing time it happened to me was on a trip to hospital. I’d been suffering some pains, so I’d gone along to the walk-in centre, and they’d taken me in to the emergency room, as is seemingly fairly standard procedure with abdominal pains.

I was there for pretty much the whole day, largely because the combination of my own anxiety and what are apparently some incredibly stubborn veins meant that a gradually escalating series of medical professionals were completely unable to draw any blood from me via conventional means, and there was a very long wait between one giving up and them bringing in someone higher up the doctors’ food chain.

At some point as afternoon was turning into evening and I was developing increasing discomfort and unease about the cannula jammed into my hand, it was decided that I Must Piss. I was presented with one of those bedpans made from like eggbox material and invited to get on with it.

At this point I should say that I am not a regular hospital attendee. In fact, I have never been admitted to hospital, which is one of the main contributing factors to my anxiety over them. The other is the print ad for the computer game Life and Death by The Software Toolworks (below), which traumatised me as a child and has ensured that I am, and always have been, absolutely terrified at the prospect of Having An Operation.

Anyway, I’m drifting off the point somewhat. We were here to talk about piss. Fact is, I wasn’t sure what the, err, “etiquette” was for using this bedpan. And, given that I had a pointy thing stuck in my hand that was becoming both increasingly uncomfortable and a growing source of considerable anxiety, I wasn’t entirely thinking straight. So rather than doing the sensible thing of toddling off to the bog to piss in the egg box, I just whipped it out in the little cubicle and thought I’d do it there and then. The curtains were closed, I figured, and no-one was making any indication of coming by to check on me, so I thought I’d just piss and be done with it.

My knob had other ideas. It chose that moment to enter full on “lawn sprinkler” mode, spraying almost everywhere except the direction I was actually pointing it. I was absolutely mortified as soon as the whole hideous process started, but of course, I was powerless to prevent that which had already happened. Thankfully, I managed to wrestle it back under control soon enough to be able to provide a convincing sample in the receptacle, so that was one job taken care of.

Now, there was a more pressing matter to deal with: the fact that I had pissed all over the bed (which, thankfully, was covered with one of those thick black sheets that fluids just sit on top of, which I suspect is precisely for situations like this) and it was dripping onto the floor. I had to act quickly, less the proof of my shame flow out underneath the curtains into the adjacent cubicle, so I frantically looked around for something with which to deal with the situation. I settled on a box of tissues conveniently placed on the shelves at the back of the cubicle, and began mopping up. I supplemented the initial mop-up with the antiseptic wipes one of the numerous attempts to draw blood from me had left behind, and after a bit of effort, I suspect no-one would have ever known that I had, just moments earlier, sprayed the entire room like a particularly horny un-neutered tomcat.

Not long after, the hospital let me go, my eventual diagnosis being effectively a shrug of the shoulders and the vague suggestion it might be a small kidney stone, but it was probably nothing and I should just go home and rest. No mention was made of any smell of piss there may or may not have been in the cubicle, and the cannula came right back out, unused.

And so that was that. My worst pissing shame, a completely wasted day and a sore hand. Have a pleasant evening.

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.

Freeview TV channel Dave is best known for being the home of endless repeats of BBC shows such as Top Gear, QI and Mock The Week, but in the last few years it’s been putting out some pretty solid original programming, too. Aside from the excellent Go 8-Bit, which I’ve talked about previously, there’s been an unscripted chat show fronted by Alan Davies, which made for surprisingly compelling viewing thanks to the candid conversations that unfolded; there’s currently a new series of Red Dwarf running which doesn’t appear to suck; and there’s a show I only discovered a few days ago called Taskmaster. It’s the latter I’d like to talk about today.

Taskmaster, one of several programmes on Dave that began as an Edinburgh Fringe production, is an unusual show in that it’s set up a bit like a panel show, only it’s the same “guests” each time over the course of a whole series, while the show is presented by Greg Davies playing an exaggerated version of himself, accompanied by the show’s creator Alex Horne playing a meek, sycophantic version of himself, a good foil to Davies’ mock arrogance. In the first series, which I’m currently watching, the lineup of guests includes Frank Skinner, Romesh Ranganathan, Tim Key, Roisin Conaty and Josh Widdicombe, who all happen to be some of my very favourite current comedians as well as regulars on the panel show circuit.

As the name suggests, Taskmaster revolves around tasks — specifically, Davies setting his guests a series of ridiculous challenges and then acting as omnipotent judge and jury over the results. The tasks are many and varied, including identifying the contents of a pie “without breaching the pie”, emptying an entire bath of water without pulling out the plug, producing a video that when played backwards appears to depict something incredible, and high-fiving a 55 year old member of the public as quickly as possible before the other contestants.

There’s a clear element of things being staged a bit — Key is usually set up to “cheat” in the challenges in one way or another, for example, while Ranganathan’s shtick is to get absolutely furious at him for breaking the rules — but this doesn’t hurt the show at all. Because the five guests represent such a broad spectrum of attitudes and approaches to comedy ranging from Skinner’s middle-aged calmness to Conaty’s energetic ditziness, the challenges can all unfold in a variety of ways. During a task in which the cast were challenged to eat as much watermelon as they could in a short amount of time, for example, Widdicombe thought things through before entering the room (and thus starting the clock) by finding a knife and spoon, then proceeding to very politely slice the melon then eat it a mouthful at a time, while Ranganathan simply picked up the melon and hurled it at the floor, shattering it into countless pieces which he then had to pick up from the floor and eat.

The challenges are frequently physical and slapstick, but never quite cross the line into “gross-out” territory; the closest it came to genuine unpleasantness was following Ranganathan’s melon-eating episode, where he ended up coughing a fair amount of it back up afterwards, but this wasn’t dwelled upon. Instead, the atmosphere is very much one of a group of friends setting silly tasks for one another, knowing full well that one of them is going to cheat, one of them isn’t going to be very good at it, one of them is a bit old for this shit and so on.

It’s been a real pleasant surprise to discover Taskmaster, and if you’re looking for something entertaining to watch I can highly recommend it, particularly if you’re a fan of Davies in full-on “Mr Gilbert” mode. You can watch it online here, though those outside the UK may need to dick around with VPNs and whatnot to convince the site that you’re a proud Brit.

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.

That day will be a dark one, in which I can no longer carry an umbrella and imagine it’s the legendary sword Curtana, hacking and slashing my way through hordes of enemies (or, indeed, zombified shoppers who just want to get out of the rain but who are too cold and wet to actually exert themselves).

That day will be a dark one, in which I can no longer get on a piece of gym equipment accompanied by the Shadow of the Colossus music and imagine that, rather than simply engaging in the eminently pointless waste of time that is lifting a heavy thing then putting it down again lots of times, I am actually battling some monstrous foe that can only be defeated by lifting bits of it up, then putting them carefully down again.

That day will be a dark one, in which I can no longer imagine what it would be like if my car could actually take off and fly, rising high above the surprised, bewildered and frightened heads of the other occupants of the traffic jam I’m in before shooting off into the distance via a far more direct route than any road ever offered.

I do wonder to myself whether or not my imagination will ever stop working. I doubt it will; after all, many creative types continue being creative well into the twilight of their life, though the exact form of what the imagination conjures up doubtless varies and changes as the years pass by.

I’m conscious of the changes to my own imagination, though in some cases these are due in part to other mental changes rather than the imagination itself. Take that period between going to bed and going to sleep, for example; when I was young, I could happily conjure whole worlds up for myself, exploring them and having all sorts of strange and wonderful adventures, blurring the lines between conscious thought and dreaming until eventually I’d awaken the next morning to the rather unwelcome sound of the alarm clock.

These days, however, I haven’t lost the ability to conjure up mental pictures, but the darkness that resides inside my head occasionally uses this time to show itself: instead of strange and fantastic worlds, my mind shows me far more mundane things, but often with the worst possible outcome; sometimes it’s nothing but words as I think about a conversation I’ve had — or need to have but am afraid to — while others it’s a mental picture I simply can’t look away from, no matter where I turn.

This isn’t a decline of the imagination at all, since my brain still conjures up very vivid pictures — and, I hasten to add, it’s not every night that I’m wracked with dark and terrible images that if not terrify me to my very core at least make me a bit anxious — but it is a change. I feel like I have less conscious control over my imagination: I can’t simply send myself to another world any more, at least not all the time; there are occasions where I have to let my mind take the lead and follow along after it. (I realise that makes no sense, but little to do with the strange inner workings of the human mind and consciousness does.)

There are other times when I can happily immerse myself in a world of my — or indeed someone else’s — creation, however. Reading a good book still makes glorious technicolour mental images appear before my mind’s eye. Writing something creative has an even more powerful impact on my imagination, stirring it into action. Closing my eyes and listening to pieces of music can either stir up imaginative scenes or conjure memories that I haven’t thought about for a long time.

The inside of my head isn’t perfect, and there is much about it I would probably change given the opportunity. But at the same time, it’s become a strangely comfortable place to be, dark corners and all; it’s a defining part of who I am, which is why I doubt that the door into that wonderful, terrifying place will ever truly be slammed shut.

There are a number of ways to defeat the Big Breakfast, but following this strategy is one of the most effective and efficient. Prepare for battle!

As the battle begins use the SAUCE — either brown or ketchup according to the preference you set during character creation — on Big Breakfast. Using the wrong sauce will provide you with smaller benefits.

Next up, grab the BUTTER and apply it to the TOAST using the KNIFE. Don’t attack the TOAST yet, though; we’ll come back to that later.

Equip the KNIFE and FORK and attack the TOMATO. This is the weakest part of the breakfast, but also has the potential to do the biggest damage to your Sanity. Try and defeat it in two attacks at most.

Follow up by attacking the MUSHROOM. This is likewise weak, and its status effects can be mitigated if you applied the SAUCE correctly.

Once the TOMATO and MUSHROOM are down, you’ll need to begin attacking the SAUSAGES, but don’t jump straight in to pure attacking. Instead, use STAB on a SAUSAGE and then attack the EGG with it — you’ll be pleased that you did. After you’ve done this on both EGGS, you can commence normal attacks. Each attack will drain your MP significantly so don’t be afraid to take a turn or two to rest if you need to.

Follow up the assault on the SAUSAGES by attacking the EGGS. Weakening them with the SAUSAGES beforehand will make this part of the battle much easier.

Attack the BACON once the EGGS have been defeated. The bacon should quickly fall to a concerted assault, but keep a close eye on your MP. You should find that your HP is steadily increasing as you defeat each opponent.

Following the BACON it might be tempting to go for the next target in the list — the HASH BROWNS — but pass them by for the movement in favour of an attack on the BEANS. Characters with low agility will need to take a few turns to defeat these, but they’re nothing too much to worry about.

After the BEANS have been defeated, you’ll notice that they’ve left a pool of BEAN JUICE behind. This cannot be defeated with normal weapons, so instead you must use the STAB move on a HASH BROWN to attach it to either your KNIFE or FORK — preferably FORK, since using the KNIFE carries a risk of damaging your own HP — and only then attack the BEAN JUICE.

If the HASH BROWN attached to your weapon breaks, use STAB again on one of its remaining companions. Repeat the process until the BEAN JUICE has been defeated. If you fail to defeat it before the HASH BROWNS have been defeated, however, don’t worry, you still have a final weapon up your sleeve.

Unequip the KNIFE and FORK and pick up the TOAST. Equip it in either hand, then attack any remaining BEAN JUICE. If none is left, simply open your Item menu and USE the TOAST like any other item. If you find your MP are too low to be able to use the TOAST, rest for a turn or two until they restore. To restore them more quickly, either use the COFFEE or get up from the table and visit the TOILET. Note that if you pick the latter option you will need to be partied up with at least one other player, otherwise upon your return you will find that Big Breakfast has been taken away, and you will not receive full XP value since parts of it were left undefeated.

Once Big Breakfast has been defeated, sit back and enjoy the cutscene, then save your game. The true weekend begins here.

In lieu of anything particularly massively exciting happening in the intervening hours since last night and this morning (largely sleeping) I thought I’d mention a peculiar dream I had. It is one of those ones that was very vivid but didn’t really make much sense, so as such I found it quite intriguing.

The main gist of it all was that I was using a computer of some description. For some reason, the casing for the computer (which seemed to be some sort of strange hybrid between a desktop and a laptop system) was open, and I could see into it. I dropped a piece of chocolate (I don’t know) onto a vent on part of the casing that was still covered, and I could see it was seeping in, so I wanted to do something about it. I opened the case further and saw that there was, for some reason, a screwdriver that had been left inside the machine. Against all of the advice people give you when you’re learning about computers, I reached inside to grab it, when…

ZZap!

I felt a slight electric shock, and the display on the screen went what can only be described as “wrong”. If you’ve ever seen what a graphics card with a loose connection does, it was that. Wrong colouring, fuzzy bits, pixels where they shouldn’t be. I hastily switched off the computer, removed the screwdriver, gave it a moment and then turned it back on again.

Instead of booting up normally, the computer switched to a second display that invited me to fix the problem with the main screen by drawing straight lines across photographs of walls. Except after I completed the first one, I somehow found myself actually drawing paint lines across a real wall with my big toe. I couldn’t make it all the way across one of the walls, so I gave up, turned the computer off and back on again. It went back to having broken graphics, and then I saw a leaflet on the desk explaining the wall-painting thing — it was a piece of software you could install to randomly pop up the wall-painting game randomly whenever you turned your computer on. It had no discernible benefit whatsoever, and certainly couldn’t fix a fried graphics card.

I have no idea what all that means. It’s probably some sort of metaphor for some sort of dee-seated anxiety or neurosis. But I don’t really have time to think about it now. Coffee. Shower. Wedding. Later!

Anyway. What is happening right now? Not a lot, because it’s 11:33 in the evening and I’d quite like to go to bed, as previously mentioned. I am sitting in front of my Mac frantically typing this blog post while Andie is sitting in the other room watching Family Guy on BBC Three. This must be at least the sixth or seventh time I’ve heard the whole series go around and around and around and I’m never quite sure how I feel about it. Family Guy can be quite entertaining, but it’s one of those things that it seems to be quite fashionable to bash on these days, so I’m never quite sure if I’m supposed to like it or not. I do know that I like it rather less now that it’s been around and around so many times. Certain things remain entertaining on repeat viewings — as I’ve previously said elsewhere on this blog, for me Friends is one of those shows that I can watch over and over again without getting tired of it for the most part — but for me, Family Guy is a bit of a one-trick pony, particularly when they start pulling the “remember the time when” etc etc jokes where they cut away to something HILARIOUS that probably didn’t really happen. What a hoot!

I’m going to stop talking about Family Guy now and think of something else to say. But what? Hmm. How about food? Today we went out for lunch with my parents to Yo! Sushi in WestQuay. I’m a big fan of Yo! Sushi even if it is a bit expensive, really. Go on Sunday, though, and it’s an all-you-can-eat for £20 sort of affair, though, so if you leave plenty of room you can ensure you get your money’s worth. I really like the food there, too. It’s tasty. I’m sure it’s not quite up to the standard of a “proper” sushi restaurant, but it’s certainly very tasty and a bit different from the normal sort of things that you get around the place.

I can still hear Family Guy and it’s a little bit distracting. I will try and maintain my concentration. I set a goal for myself to keep writing non-stop for ten minutes and I’m about halfway through at this point. Lucy the rat is currently running rather aggressively on the wheel in her cage — I can hear, not see her — so I will have to go and check on her in a bit. I like our rats. They are friendly. Lara likes to run up the sleeve of my dressing gown, which is very amusing except when she does a wee in my armpit. To be fair to her, she has only done that once, but it was not very nice.

Anyway, I believe I was talking about sushi before I got distracted by Family Guy. One of the things I like at Yo! Sushi is takoyaki — octopus dumplings which various Japanese video games taught me about the existence of. (I’m specifically thinking of the takoyaki stand people hang out at in Persona 3, but the game I’m currently playing on the DS, Lifesigns, also features a lot of mentions of takoyaki). For some reason, mentioning something repeatedly like that really makes me want to investigate it and try it for myself — and hey, what do you know? Turns out that takoyaki is pretty tasty, though I’m not sure it was quite what I expected when I first had it. I recommend you try it. I didn’t have it today because by the time it came around on the conveyor belt at Yo! Sushi, we were already pretty full on everything else we’d eaten. Another time, dear octopus balls, another time.

One more minute to go. Can I break a thousand words by the time that minute passes? Probably not. I’d have to type a little bit quicker than I am typing right now. I can type pretty quickly, but I’m not sure I can type 250 words in a minute. That would be pretty speedy. Superhuman speedy, in fact.

Oh, time’s up. Time to go. I apologise for the disjointed, dumb nature of this blog post but I thought I’d do that instead of babbling on about Ar Tonelico II again. (I’ll get back to that tomorrow! Just kidding! Maybe.) Anyway. Time for bed. Good night.

Sometimes, though, I don’t like my subconscious. Today is one of those days.

I don’t tend to suffer from nightmares a lot. I don’t have many memories of being woken up suddenly by something unpleasant happening to me in my dreams, and I’ve certainly never done the Hollywoodesque thing of suddenly sitting bolt upright, wide awake and covered in sweat. This morning, though, my brain decided to show me some messed-up crap.

And yes, I said morning. As those of you who remember my previous posts on vivid dreams will remember, I tend to experience my most vivid flashes of weirdness from the subconscious after I’ve sort of kind of woken up once and drifted off back to sleep. In this case, it was shortly after Andie had gone out to work at half-past some ungodly hour in the morning, and I was far too tired to get out of bed at that point. So, without much encouragement required, I fell asleep again, and the peculiar images began.

This time around, I was back at my old secondary school. Specifically, I was in the music department’s main room. This was quite a big room with a stage at one end, though it was relatively rarely used for concerts when I was there — school concerts tended to take place in the large (and extremely reverberant) sports hall. Regardless of that, though, there was a concert going on this time around. I was set to perform. Specifically, I was set to perform Carnival of the Animals on the piano, which the astute and/or classically-trained among you will know is a piece of music that normally requires at least two people and two pianos and possibly some additional instruments too. However, for reasons that were at best unclear over the course of this dream, I was set to perform it solo, and I was extremely nervous about it.

I don’t remember anything else that was going on in the concert, but I remember the audience feeling somewhat rowdy. In fact, it felt more like a performance in front of a class of schoolkids than an actual concert — as I looked around, I remember noticing that the desks were laid out just as they always were — three rows, with another at 90 degrees to the rest of them down the side.

My time came to perform and I psyched myself up. I was going to give a small speech prior to starting my performance to explain why I was going to be performing Carnival of the Animals as a soloist, but as I stepped on stage the noise level from the audience (who, it was clearly evident by now, just were schoolkids) increased and increased and increased. I stood there mutely waiting for them to calm down so I could give my speech, but the hubbub didn’t dissipate. Eventually I gave up, laid my music down on the piano that was on stage and prepared to take a seat.

Suddenly, from out of the audience, out burst a kid who was a fairly notorious bully when I was back at school. His appearance in my dream was just as when I last saw him at the age of about 15. While I was at school, I didn’t have a lot of problems with this particular individual personally, but he was someone that I was wary of and tended to avoid whenever possible — not only because I was afraid of him, but also because I thought he was a bit of a tosser. Anyway, that aside, he leapt at me, and it wasn’t until it was too late that I saw he was wielding a knife. He slashed across me as he leapt at me. I didn’t feel anything, so I figured he missed.

Then I looked down and saw he hadn’t missed. The front of my clothing was stained crimson with blood, and the pain suddenly kicked in.

Then I woke up. That was not a pleasant way to wake up, I can tell you, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that it pretty much put a downer on most of the rest of my day. I’ve been feeling low and depressed all day and while I’m sure not all of it can be attributed to the activities of my subconscious, starting the day in that manner probably didn’t help.

But what does it mean? Well, aside from the apparent long-term damage to my sanity that classroom teaching did… who knows? And I’m not sure I want to know!

As you will recall if you’ve been following this blog for a while, I have recounted these peculiar and surreal experiences in the past. And I thought I’d do that today, largely to resist the temptation to write about Ar Tonelico yet again.

This morning’s weird dream was once again somewhat lavatorial in nature, at least in part, so for that I apologise.

I forget the specific circumstances which brought me to the situation, but something had caused me to arrive at a building which looked somewhat like Kazuma’s orphanage from the video game Yakuza 3. There were a few differences, though. For some reason, inside the wooden building there was a large room with windows all around its walls, except for one completely wooden wall, which had a toilet on it.

I had arrived at the building to see someone I knew — I think they were a teacher, but I don’t recall seeing their face clearly. Their class were with them, but ignored me until I stepped into the bizarre “toilet room” and started having a piss, at which point some kid pointed out the fact that I was clearly having a piss, and that everyone should watch closely. Naturally, once I had started, I couldn’t stop — you know how it is when you really need a piss and you release that valve — but I was also very conscious of everyone standing around outside this room, with me on display.

Somehow, I managed to find a way of standing where I knew that no-one would be able to see my knob or the seemingly never-ending stream of piss erupting from me, but the crowd began to become more rowdy. At first it was shouting and laughing, but then it changed to singing — a few scattered voices at first, which eventually became as one, singing a driving, dramatic song that inexplicably developed an orchestral backing after a while despite the fact there was clearly not an orchestra present — at least not one which I could see. As the music built in intensity, volume and tempo, I became aware that I was losing control of my, uh, “flow” and it was going everywhere, and that everyone could see this.

Suddenly the music stopped, and I was done. I flushed, and went to wash my hands at the sink that I’m sure wasn’t there beforehand. The sink was full of paint and the draining board next to it looked rusty and dirty, but clean water came out of the taps, at least. I washed up and left the room, trying to get far away from my “audience”, who thankfully didn’t follow me. I’m not sure how long I ran or to where, but eventually I found myself in a room with Emma Watson, who grabbed me and kissed me rather forcefully.

And then I woke up, disappointingly. Well thank you, subconscious, for keeping me asleep during the bizarre, slightly traumatic part and waking me up just as things were getting interesting.

In my case — and disappointingly for this blog post, which is about to get a whole lot of padding — I can’t remember the specific details about said dream. What I can remember, however, is the peculiar combination of games that formed the basis of said dream. First up were Ar Tonelico, which is my new RPG jam having finished Hyperdimension Neptunia mk2; and Hyperdimension Neptunia mk2 itself — hey, I really, really liked it, okay? These two aren’t especially weird to put together, since Ar Tonelico’s developer Gust also contributed to Hyperdimension Neptunia and was even personified in the game as the character called, err, Gust.

Combining with Ar Tonelico and Hyperdimension Neptunia was the visual novel Kira Kira, which I was reading shortly before I went to sleep last night, so it’s perhaps unsurprising it put in an appearance. Kira Kira doesn’t really fit with the other two, though — it may also be Japanese, but it’s 1) not an RPG 2) not in a fantasy setting and 3) not quite as “crazy” as the other two.

This isn’t as bizarre an inclusion as the presence of CD Projekt Red’s dark fantasy opus The Witcher, however, which also put in an appearance courtesy of its white-haired protagonist Geralt, who looked very much out of place alongside the colourful characters from the other games.

As I say, I can’t remember what actually happened in the dream, so this story is mostly a waste of time, but I thought it was an interesting combination of things that my subconscious chose to put together — particularly since I haven’t played The Witcher for quite some time.

Game dreams don’t always blend together experiences like this. Sometimes they’re a focused experience based on a single game. Puzzle games used to be particularly bad for this — I remember shortly after getting my very own Lynx (Atari’s ill-fated 16-bit handheld which was absolutely enormous) and playing a whole bunch of Klax that I had a number of Klax-related dreams, which mostly centred their attention on my mental image of the female voice that whispered such sweet nothings as “Klax Wave!” and “Yeah!” and “Oooh!” while you were playing. (I think it was the latter that made me go weak at the knees. It was quite a sexy “Oooh!”. I have tried to find it on YouTube but instead found nothing but Flight Simulator videos. Apparently “KLAX” is the abbreviation for Los Angeles International Airport. What was I talking about again?)

Um, anyway… Yeah.

Dreams are a strange thing. I am fairly convinced that you can influence your own dreams strongly by what you’re doing immediately before you go to sleep (wash your mind out, pervert) but it seems that the most vivid dreams tend to show themselves when you’re not specifically trying to think really hard about something, and instead have a mind full of things that have stimulated it. In my case last night, the rather wordy prose of Kira Kira obviously kept my mind active as I drifted off to sleep, and then other influences that I felt strongly about drifted in there, too.

That still doesn’t really explain the presence of The Witcher, but eh, I’m tired, so I’m off to read a bit of Kira Kira and then go to sleep for hopefully some more subconscious happy fun times. See you on the other side.