#oneaday, Day 224: Patch Notes

Thank you for continuing to play Life. We are pleased to announce that Patch 2.0 is almost ready for release. It is currently awaiting approval from Apple, and we hope to have it available to all users very soon.

While you wait, here is a list of the exciting new features you can soon be enjoying from your Life experience.

Quick-Save. The most-requested feature is finally here! Are you about to get yourself into a situation which you’re a little concerned about the outcome of? No matter! Simply press the Quick-Save button (assigned to your genitals by default) and, should things not go the way you intend, you can simply try again! Please note: there are certain situations when the Quick-Save command will be unavailable. Please ensure your brain has enough free space for the save data before using the Quick-Save function.

Difficulty Adjustment. Some users have commented that Life is too easy or too difficult for them. As such, we have added a difficulty slider to the main menu (accessible by closing your eyes for five seconds and then coughing). If life’s getting you down a bit, simply drop back the difficulty slider for a while and enjoy increased fame and fortune for less effort. Similarly, if you’re enjoying the trappings of wealth a little too much, simply bump up the difficulty slider to increase the number of scandals you’ll encounter. Please note: Adjusting the difficulty slider will affect the experience points gained.

RealID. We’ve added a facility where once you know a person’s name and have added them to your Friends List (assigned to that notebook in your dusty old chest of drawers by default) you will never forget their name ever again thanks to a handy pop-up over their head. You will also see all contact information they have made available and be able to track them via GPS. Please note: GPS tracking is not intended for use by stalkers. Misuse of this facility will be punishable by account suspension.

Common Sense. Long-time subscribers will receive an exclusive “Common Sense” special ability. When entering a situation which is potentially dangerous, illegal and/or stupid, a large red flashing sign will appear saying “STOP IT”. It will continue to flash until the user removes themself from the situation in question. Please note: the “Common Sense” ability will not be automatically available to anyone who has been a subscriber for less than 25 years. They are, however, able to obtain it via questing.

Chat Filters. Another oft-requested feature, the Chat Filter facility will allow users to filter out any or all of the following depending on their own personal preferences: Profanity, blasphemy, religious fanaticism, racism, homophobia, tolerance, sexism, corporate jargon and foreign languages. These phrases can either be muted or automatically replaced via a seamless automatic translation algorithm. For example, when the corporate jargon filter is activated, the sentence “Let’s table this then bluesky and run it up the flagpole for mind-showering purposes whilst leveraging our monetization strategies in the name of excellence” is replaced by “BULLSHIT”.

Item Rebalancing. Coffee now restores twice as many MP. Brussels Sprouts still cause flatulence and nausea, but no longer restore any HP, thereby making them more of a novelty item than an unpleasant healing item. HP Sauce now works as intended by fully restoring HP upon consumption of an entire bottle. Kit-Kat Chunky may no longer be equipped as a weapon. Jaffa Cakes now add the Happiness effect, which stacks up to ten times.

New Dungeon. Haunted by the past? Jump into the new Personal Demons solo dungeon and fight against your worst fears. The new dungeon is only accessible at night and features our toughest boss encounters yet! Please note: Players are not able to take party or raid members into the Personal Demons dungeon.

Adjustable Day Length. Not enough time to complete all your Daily Quests? Simply pop into the Main Menu and extend the day by up to 48 hours.

Graphical Enhancements. A new “Tango” slider enables users blinded by the bright orangeness of those making use of the Fake Tan item to tone down this effect.

Social Networking. Now you can share everything you do via both Facebook and Twitter completely automatically. No longer will players need to make use of “Computer” or “Phone” items in order to inform other users that they are going to the toilet or having lunch. Please note: No responsibility will be accepted for quests failed due to inadvertent tweets/Facebook updates from places/people you are not supposed to be in.

Thank you for your continued support of Life. We hope to have the Version 2.0 patch rolled out as soon as possible. It’s been many years in the making and we think you’ll be really pleased with it.

#oneaday, Day 211: The Only Art Lesson You Will Ever Need

“I can’t draw!” I hear you cry, assuming you’re shouting about not being able to draw at this exact moment, which you probably aren’t. But no matter! Help is at hand. You don’t have to be an excellent artist to be able to draw things that are distinctive and interesting. I’m going to let you into the secrets of my own craft which you have doubtless seen throughout this blog. The art of the stickman.

I’ll tell you a secret: I can draw. Sort of. Not great, and I’ve never studied it or had any particularly formal training. But I can sort of draw. I just choose not to when it comes to the pictures on this blog, because ever since secondary school when my good buddy Ed “Roth Dog” Padgett and I discovered that stickmen are actually the most expressive things in the universe, we’ve often chosen to stick to stickmen, no pun intended. On a side note, Roth actually can draw, as you’ll see here.

But anyway. Let’s begin.

Step 1: Pose

When you’re drawing a stick person, the first thing you need to consider is what they’re going to be doing. Since the body is very simple and you’re going to spend most of the time on the face, this is a simple matter of making a quick decision. Most people stick to the traditional model (figure 1, but you can get stick figures doing all manner of weird and wonderful things (figure 2) even before you’ve put a face on them. Remember to add feet. Feet make poses more versatile. Adding feet to your stickmen is the difference between standing casually and tapping its foot impatiently.

Step 2a: Normal faces

The next step, which a lot of people leave out, stopping at step 1, is to add a face to your stickman. You only need three lines to put a face on a stickman. Two vertical lines for eyes, and one horizontal or curvy line for a mouth. These lines can be modified to produce a variety of expressions (figure 3).

Fig. 3: Possible stickman facial expressions.

Step 2b: Open-mouthed faces

If one of the closed-mouth expressions just isn’t expressing things expressively enough for you, then you may wish to consider opening your stickman’s mouth. What you put inside your stickman’s mouth can make a large amount of difference to what the expression means (figure 4).

Step 2c: Exaggerated faces

If none of the above faces are quite getting across what you are trying to say with your stickman, then simply throw any semblance of realism out of the window and do something ridiculous. These are stickmen, after all. They can do whatever the hell you damn well want (figure 5).

Step 3: Detail

Once you’ve come up with a pose and a face, all you need to do is add some individuality to the stickman by adding some detail. This is normally done via the medium of hair. Creating different stickman characters is a simple matter of giving them different hairstyles. No-one will ever notice that they have the same faces and poses. You can even change a stick person’s gender at the drop of a hat simply by changing the hairstyle (figure 6).

And with just those three steps, you are officially done! You have created your own unique character. Congratulations. You’re a cartoonist.

#oneaday, Day 186: How To Laugh On The Internet

The acronym “LOL”, originally short for “laughing out loud” has lost all meaning. This is entirely thanks to Internet denizens who believe it is an adequate substitute for any punctuation mark ever. It’s true. Try it sometime. Don’t forget to strip out all capital letters.

“Would you like to go to the shops?” becomes “would u like to go 2 the shops lol”

“I went to the shops to buy some butter, but they had run out.” becomes “I went 2 the shops 2 buy sum butter lol but they had run out lol”

“Now is the winter of our discontent / Made glorious summer by this sun of York; / all the clouds that lour’d upon our house / In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.” becomes “now is da winta of our discontent lol made golrius summer by dis sun of york lol all da clouds that lourd upon our house lol in da deep bosom of da ocean buried lol”

Ouch, that actually hurt.

Anyway, the fact is, “LOL” is meaningless. Coming up quickly behind it in the meaningless stakes are other acronyms such as “LMAO” and “PMSL”. So I feel, Internet, it is time to educate you in the ways of laughter which uses more characters but is infinitely more expressive. You’ll find there’s a laugh for every occasion.

“Hehe”

Mild amusement. This can be used for something that was only intended to be a little bit funny, or perhaps something that you didn’t find that funny yourself but don’t want to offend the other person by not laughing at it. It’s also less girly than some other alternatives. An optional trailing full stop may be added.

CORRECT USAGE: “I thought I’d forgotten my keys earlier. But they were in my pocket the whole time!” — “Hehe”

INCORRECT USAGE: “YARR HARR FIDDLEDEDEE, BEING A PIRATE IS ALL RIGHT TO BE! DO WHAT YOU WANT CAUSE A PIRATE IS FREE, YOU ARE A PIRATE!” — “Hehe”

“Heehee”

Flirtatious laughter. Perhaps someone has said something a little bit contentious or naughty and you want to giggle with them. “Heehee” is the perfect laugh for this purpose.

CORRECT USAGE: “Well, we went back to her house and then, well, I’m sure you can imagine what happened…” — “Heehee”

INCORRECT USAGE: “Lindsay Lohan is like a child with ADD! Neither of them can finish a sentence!” — “Heehee”

“Teehee”

The naughty laugh. An upgrade from “heehee”, often used when slagging someone off behind their back, making illicit plans or making thinly-veiled references to something filthy the two of you—or indeed someone you mutually know—got up to recently.

CORRECT USAGE: “Well, last night certainly didn’t suck… but someone sure did.” — “Teehee”

INCORRECT USAGE: “The Master is rising! And soon the world will be ours!” — “Teehee”

“Haha(hahahahahahahahahahahahaha)”

The all-purpose “that’s funny” laugh. The minimum number of “ha”s is two, otherwise it’s a “Ha!” which is not a laugh at all, more a triumphant call of… something. The more “ha”s which are added to the end of the “haha”, the funnier the thing is. “Haha” is mildly funny. “Hahahahahahahahahaha” is extremely funny. Optional additions may include all-caps or exclamation marks. These are both intensifiers.

CORRECT USAGE (mildly funny thing): “Knock knock.” — “Who’s there?” — “Doctor.” — “Doctor who?” — “You just said it!” — “Haha”

CORRECT USAGE (exceedingly funny thing): “[insert most things that @DRUNKHULK says on Twitter]” — “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

INCORRECT USAGE: “Sir. The rebels have been crushed!” — “Haha”

“Mehehe(hehehehehe)”

The “mildly evil” laugh. Are you about to do something that’s wrong, and you just don’t care? Are you talking smack about someone? Have you made plans to do something which may cause mild embarrassment, discomfort or itching to a third party? Have you just witnessed something unfortunate occurring to someone you don’t like much? Then this is the laugh for you. The number of “hehe”s on the end may again be varied. All-caps and exclamation marks are not usually added to an instance of a “mehehehehe”.

CORRECT USAGE: “I’m going to invite them over, but then I won’t answer the door!” — “Mehehehehe”

INCORRECT USAGE: “A man walks into a bar and says ‘ouch!'” — “Mehehehehe”

“Mwahaha(hahahahaha)”

The “moderately evil” laugh. Are you about to do something very wrong? Or perhaps you’re joking about doing something wrong that you’d never actually do but think would be quite entertaining, if evil, if you did? Have you successfully got one up on someone you moderately-to-extremely dislike? Then this is the laugh for you, complete with variable-length “hahahaha” on the end. All-caps and exclamation marks may be adopted for this laugh if appropriate, depending on the evility of the situation. However, in extremely evil situations, consider upgrading to “Muhahahahahaha!”

CORRECT USAGE: “And then I told her ‘by the way, your skirt is TOTALLY tucked into your panties’. She looked mortified!” — “Mwahahahaha!”

INCORRECT USAGE: “Aww, look at that cute little kitten!” — “Mwahahaha!”

Not to be confused with “Mwah”, which is blowing a kiss.

“Muhahahahahahaha!”

The “very evil” laugh. You are an evil overlord, emperor or other figure who strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies. You are either about to do something terribly evil, have just done something terribly evil or take delight revelling in your evil-ness. Whatever the reason, this laugh is part of your arsenal of verbal weapons with which you may strike fear into the aforementioned hearts of your aforementioned enemies, along with sentences such as “I am afraid it is YOU who are mistaken” and “No, Mr Protagonist, I expect you to die”. All-caps and exclamation marks are frequently applied for intensification purposes.

CORRECT USAGE: “MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

INCORRECT USAGE: “Oh look, your baby cousin is smiling for the first time!” — “MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

DISCLAIMER: I am not aware of any legitimate historical evidence which quotes Hitler as saying “MUHAHAHAHAHA!” But I bet he did.

“Bahahahahaha!”

The belly laugh. This is a hearty chuckle at something you find genuinely amusing. The kind of laugh that Father Christmas or a Viking would use whilst sitting in front of a roaring log fire. Works well with a smoker’s cough.

CORRECT USAGE: “I want a bicycle like in E.T. so I can follow you through the skies, Santa!” — “Bahahahahaha!”

INCORRECT USAGE: “That duck just fell over.” — “Bahahahahaha!”

“Gahahahahahahaha!”

The Brian Blessed laugh. I don’t think anything else needs to be said about this one. Usually combined with all-caps and exclamation marks.

CORRECT USAGE: “CRY HAVOC! AND LET SLIP THE DOGS OF WAR! GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

INCORRECT USAGE: “I posted a rude message on that forum.” — “GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Kyahahahahaha!”

The witch’s laugh. An evil cackle if ever there was one. Doesn’t really work when men do it. Even evil wizards don’t tend to go “kyahahahahaha”.

CORRECT USAGE: “And now, my pretties, into the pot you go! Kyahahahahaha!”

INCORRECT USAGE: “Do you remember that time my pants fell down?” — “Kyahahahahaha!”

So as you can see, there is a laugh for pretty much any situation. I trust this will be the last time I ever see you using acronyms to represent laughter and/or punctuation.

Please feel free to share any additional variants you may be aware of in the comments.

#oneaday, Day 184: Dark World

[The following is part dream I had, part daydream, part complete fiction and part external influences. You may make of it what you will. Up to and including a fetching hat.]

The fog was out of season, and even thicker than it would have been at the right time of year for it. And it was cold. Very cold. Colder than he remembered it being for a long time. He wasn’t sure how long it had been cold and foggy, but it had certainly been for the whole day. And that seemed to mean that everyone was staying inside, since there was not a soul on the street.

He reached the shop and walked in. All was silent inside. The lights flickered slightly, and the buzzing of the fluorescent tubes suddenly seemed very loud. There was no-one here either; no sign of the usual student rabble laughing, joking and buying beer. No sign of the shop staff behind the counter. Nothing. Yet apart from this, the neatly-stacked shelves looked just as they always did. But there was something wrong, something sinister about the whole thing.

He walked over to the coffee machine, pulled out a cup and placed it under the nozzle before jamming his thumb onto the “large latté” button. The machine whirred, ground and made that curious sucking noise as the milk and coffee poured into the cup. It seemed very loud amidst the silence in the rest of the shop. Then it was quiet, and the cup was full. He pulled out one of the flimsy plastic lids from the dispensers and set it atop the cup.

He fumbled in his pocket for some loose change and left it on the counter. Just because there was no-one here was no reason to take advantage. He wasn’t that sort of person.

Something was wrong. The lights were flickering more, and the buzzing was getting louder. Suddenly, they went off entirely, and the shop was plunged into darkness. Loud, metallic scraping sounds filled his ears and he didn’t know what was happening. It shouldn’t be dark; it was still light outside, despite the fog. He tripped and fell in the darkness, somehow managing to hold on to his coffee cup. The ground began to shake, and he fell again trying to get back on his feet. This time, he dropped the cup. The tremors became stronger and stronger; it felt like the ground was somehow shifting beneath him, changing, becoming… metallic?

A small light flicked on above the counter.

The floor was cold, and where there once were simple tiles was now covered in metallic grates, darkness beneath them.

He scrambled to his feet, not wanting to stay here any longer than necessary. Outside, the fog was gone, but it was dark now. There was little light by which to see, so he pulled out his phone and used the bright light from the screen to see his way. The street seemed to be covered with the same curious gratings, the soles of his shoes clanging on them as he walked.

In the distance, in the darkness, he could see his building. He needed to get there, to be home, to be safe, to be inside. He didn’t like the feeling that this strange new environment was giving him. He quicked his pace to a light jog and headed towards the building, up the stairs to the front door. He punched in the door code and opened the door.

Inside, like outside, all was darkness. The small pool of light from his phone was just enough to see by, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He opened the door leading into the corridor that held his apartment and stepped into the blackness. He walked forward down the corridor, stopping and turning where he thought his door should be, but there was nothing there, and the corridor continued into the darkness. He couldn’t see the end of it.

He turned to face the corridor, stretching into the distance, took a deep breath, swallowed, and continued to walk down it. As he continued down the seemingly endless passageway, the only sound were his footsteps echoing on the metallic floor.

He wasn’t sure how long he walked for, but he was starting to get out of breath after a while. That’s when he heard the sounds. A mechanical sound of some sort, though he couldn’t tell what. He walked towards it and it slowly, gradually, got louder.

A voice whispered in his ear and he gave a start, almost falling over with the shock. He didn’t hear what the voice said, but it sounded familiar. Then the other ear, again, something said, not meant to be heard. The machinery growing louder and louder, the whispering voices growing more urgent. And now it felt like the corridor was sloping downwards. Just a little at first, but the further he went and the closer the sound became, the more it sloped and sloped until he thought he was going to slide down it and then—

The corridor came to an abrupt end along with the sounds, and he almost walked into his neighbour’s door in the darkness. He turned to face his own apartment, drew out his key from his pocket and hesitantly slid it into the lock. Pushing open the door slowly, cautiously, he shone the light from his phone into the black hallway, a sense of dread gripping him from inside, tightening every organ in his body, making him feel coiled like a spring.

The light bounced off a metallic object that was sitting on the side in the hallway. He walked over to it to see what it was.

A cook’s knife. Clean, shining in the light and sharp as a razor. He picked it up, not certain what he’d use it for. And he walked slowly towards the bedroom, figuring that if the world was going to do a passable impression of night-time, he might as well try and get some sleep.

The door creaked open as he pushed it, but suddenly he was wrenched through it, the wind knocked out of him as he fell to the ground, still gripping the knife in his hand, his phone skittering across the floor, face up, its light shining around the small room.

Then the sound. That terrible sound. Like a scream, but not of pain or terror. It sounded like rage. It was formidable and terrible, and it was somewhere in this room.

He looked up at the pool of light on the ceiling. That’s when he saw it. Its skin glistening as the light reflected off it, it screamed again as it knew it had been spotted.

He gasped, and his breathing quickened. This was—

The thing let out a horrifying screech again and something glass shattered. A window? A mirror? He couldn’t tell, because he couldn’t see. But he knew what had to be done. Brandishing the knife in a shaking hand, he walked towards where he had seen it hanging and looked up again. A tendril, like a thick piece of rope, hung from the ceiling. He raised the knife over his head and brought it down in a smooth arc, slashing through the tendril and slicing it clean in two. The part which had been stuck to the ceiling fell to the ground with a wet slapping noise, and there was another terrible scream.

His head hurt. His vision, what little he could see, felt hazy. This was difficult. It wasn’t as easy as he thought. But he had to—

The thing roared and lunged at him, but he staggered to one side at just the right moment, placing him right beneath another hanging tendril. Gritting his teeth and raising the knife, he cut through this one too. This time, images flashed across his eyes. Memories? He wasn’t sure, because they were gone as soon as he could focus on them. And still it was there, howling in pain now, writhing, yet still trapped. It lunged again and pushed him to the floor, knocking the wind out of him and the knife clattering across the floor. He dove towards where he thought it fell, gasping to recover his breath, and fumbled around until he felt its handle. Unsteadily, he picked himself up and got to his feet. His head was hurting now, like a migraine but worse. Instead of flashing lights across his vision, there were images, but they were still too elusive to grasp hold of. He recognised them, loved them and feared them at the same time, and he knew that there was only one way to—

With a yell, he leapt at the thing, knife raised aloft and slashed through the fourth and final tendril. With an awful screech, it fell to the ground, helpless against what was to come.

He stood above it, looking down at this pitiful thing that could engender such fear, hatred and anger. There was only one thing left, and that would be it. That would be the end. That would be—

He knelt before it, glowering at it, eyes narrowed, teeth grinding. He looked at the knife in his hand, now stained with blood and ichor, and then back to the thing again. This would be the last—

He plunged the knife deep into it and the horrific noise that ensued made the ground shake. But he pulled out the knife and plunged it in again, the tremors becoming more and more forceful, the screech becoming more and more deafening. He could hear walls cracking, collapsing, falling around him. He hoped it would be enough time to—

With the final thrust of the knife, there was a blinding white light, a sense of sudden, incredible, release like every trace of tension leaving his body; and there was a sound, a sound like a rising wind, louder and louder and stronger and filling his ears with noise and sound and it was too much and—

Then sudden, awful, total silence. Nothingness. The white light enveloped everything. Made it impossible to see. But it was—

She stood by the door to the apartment, not sure whether or not to go in. She stared at that number on the door, the number which for so long had meant “home” but was now just another meaningless digit. She looked at the lock, and at the key in her hand.

The key slid smoothly into the lock and she pushed open the door. Inside, all was quiet. The lights were off, the curtains were open and there were no signs of life. She walked ahead into the bedroom. Bare. Nothing but a bed. No sheets, no pillows, nothing. Back into the corridor; nothing here. The closets: empty. The study: nothing to see.

Panicking now, her heart racing, she ran to the living room. Nothing here besides the table, the sofa and the chairs. The things that had always been here, but nothing that meant—

Then she saw it. A folded piece of paper on the table, sitting by itself, alone.

She took it, unfolded it, read it.

Then she stuffed it into her pocket, turned and fled.

#oneaday, Day 168: Into Dreams

I was awoken this morning by the conclusion of a peculiar and very realistic-feeling dream. The details of said dream are fading a little now, making me wish I’d written this post sooner. But I shall attempt to explain what I remember. There’s not actually that much.

I was in the dining room of my parents’ house. I believe it was the dining room as it looked some years ago, i.e. when I was a kid, not how it looks now. It hasn’t changed that much, but there’s been a few additions, such as a couple of clocks and chairs that used to belong to my grandparents. Those things weren’t there in the dream, at least I don’t think so. Oh, does it matter? Probably not. The main point of the dream was not that I was in my parents’ dining room. It was the fact that I was in there with two other people, the identities of which have slipped out of my mind for now. But I believe they were people you wouldn’t expect to be doing what we were doing.

No, not that. Get your mind out of the gutter, you disgusting pervert.

We were singing. Specifically, we were singing Silent Night. A cappella. With improvised harmonies and counter-melodies. It was hauntingly beautiful in that slightly sinister and aggressive way that male voice choirs tend to be. As soon as the song finished, I woke up on the sofa I’d been sleeping on after a night of babysitting. (I know, right. Hardcore Saturday nights for the win.)

Bizarre. But not the most bizarre dream I’ve ever had.

I used to have several peculiar recurring dreams as a child. Both of them are utterly nonsensical in the way that only a child’s dreams can be. I haven’t had any recurring dreams like that for a long time. I actually kind of miss them a bit. Sort of. Although one of them was a bit scary.

The first involved a cuddly-toy pyjama case I had as a kid. This pyjama case was a brown bear from America and as such was appropriately named American Brown Bear. He was a cheerful-looking sort of bear; a bit skinny when he didn’t have any pyjamas in his stomach, but otherwise he was fairly happy and smiley. So I have no idea why I found him so terrifying at night. Or indeed where this dream about him came from.

It would always be the same. I’d dream that I woke up and needed to get out of bed for some reason; perhaps to go to the toilet, or get a drink or something like that. Perhaps the context changed. But the need to get out of bed is a constant.

When I was a kid, I slept in a bedroom that required passing by a window to get from the bed to the door. In the dream, when I passed the window, American Brown Bear would leap out and shout something indecipherable which to this day I haven’t worked out what it actually was, but sounded awfully like “MRS LINCOLN PUPPIES!”, which of course makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. This is, of course, leaving aside the fact that my pyjama case was talking to me.

There was never any sort of satisfying conclusion to the dream. It usually woke me up. I never did find out what it meant.

The second recurring dream was more surreal. Yes, more.

I’d wake up in the dream and I’d be in a strange landscape. It’d always be night-time, the sky a shade of dark navy blue with stars and a crescent moon. It always looked more like an artist’s rendition of “night-time” rather than a realistic image. I believe it may well have been based on the image there was in a print of a painting we had on our landing. I forget the name of it or indeed who it was by. But I have a feeling that was the kind of image.

Anyway, that wasn’t the weird thing. The weird thing was the fact that there was a silhouette of a tree in the distance (which I was shocked to discover ended up marking the end point of the first level of Flower on the PS3—yes, it totally was the same tree and I wasn’t just projecting my childhood memories onto it at all, dammit) and in front of the tree there was a field I had to get through. Yes, had to. Because I really needed to get to that tree. I don’t know why, and I never did. Because the field in question was made of strawberry mousse, high up to the height of those fields of sunflowers you see in zombie movies. Strawberry fields forever, quite literally. The only way through was to eat it. I could have dug through, probably, but I’d get my hands all sticky.

Inevitably, I’d end up getting lost, despite reaching the tree only necessitating travelling in a straight line for a considerable period of time. At the point I got lost, I’d rise up above the mousse-field and see how far I had to go, and the path I’d carved (eaten). It always twisted and turned inexplicably, and I was never anywhere near the tree. Then I’d wake up.

So there you are. Childhood recurring dreams… nightmares, whatever. Perhaps they might explain a few things? Or perhaps not.

#oneaday, Day 127: Good Morning, Sleepyhead

Good morning! Well, it’s nearly 2AM after all. That traditional blogging time, you know.

So I’ve been by myself for some time now after a long time having someone beside me almost constantly. And the thing that’s struck me the most is how one’s perception of time changes. Or maybe it’s not the perception of time, it’s the brain associating certain activities with certain memories and wanting to distance itself from them. Or, to simplify matters, it’s about the messed-up sleepytime routine of the lonely man.

Take going to bed. I’ve found it quite difficult to make myself go to bed at a reasonable hour. I never was particularly good at it at the best of times, but if the occasion demanded it, I could be in bed before midnight. Before 11PM, even. But now? Staying up late isn’t particularly unusual. This isn’t some attempt to take full advantage of my new-found and not-particularly-enjoyable freedom. It’s simply that going to bed means spending time alone in a dark room. Which, as anyone who has ever suffered through depression, stress, or any sort of crisis (all three of which I’m suffering right now) will tell you, is a sure-fire way to get one’s brain thinking about things you don’t really want to think about. So my body convinces itself that it’s not tired and doesn’t want to go to bed yet. So I don’t. Eventually I will collapse into bed and sleep, but it’s only once I really can’t go on any longer.

The side-effect to this is, of course, that it’s sometimes a bit difficult to wake up in the morning. But not only that. Having grown accustomed to waking up alongside someone else and having that presence there to spur you on to face the day, whatever it might entail, it’s a shock to the system to suddenly have to do all that yourself. I can wake up early, sure. But getting out of bed? More difficult. When it feels like there’s not much to get up for – and certainly no-one waiting for me to get up – it becomes easy to just lie there staring into space or worse, fall asleep again. This is, of course, enormously impractical and could probably be rectified by going to bed a bit earlier, but because of the aforementioned reasons, that’s difficult too. Vicious cycle, you see.

It’s not as if I don’t keep myself busy, though. If I stay up late, it’s not just to stare at a wall or sit there in floods of tears, though both of those have happened at least once recently. No, I find something to do. I find someone to chat to. I write something. I draw something. I play a game. I harass people on Twitter. Anything to avoid having to sit in that dark room trying to get to sleep, failing and hearing that little tap-tap-tap of the unpleasant thoughts come a-knockin’ on my brain. It’s a distraction, though, not a substitute.

So the moral of this story, then, is don’t be alone. It sucks.

#oneaday, Day 115: Change the Script

I popped out earlier in an attempt to 1) clear my head a bit and 2) get something done. Specifically, I went out with the intentions of 1) giving my CV to a temp agency to get a crappy job so I can actually earn some money, since the supply teaching agencies are being useless right now despite repeated poking, and 2) getting something to eat.

Within the space of five minutes, three separate people in three separate establishments had proven themselves to be absolutely useless. In the world’s constant drive to be more efficient, the introduction of “scripts”, turning real people into walking, talking robots, has made even the simplest of tasks an ordeal.

First I walked into Reed, an employment agency. There was no-one at the front desk, which wasn’t an immediately good start. I looked around a bit and eventually a middle-aged woman appeared out of an office at the back.

WOMAN: Hello, can I help you?

ME: Yes, I’m looking for short-term temporary employment.

WOMAN: Oh? How temporary?

ME: Erm… temporary as in “not permanent”?

WOMAN: Tell me about you.

ME: I’m Pete. Here’s my CV. Do you need me to register with you?

WOMAN: (ignoring proffered CV) Here’s what you need to do: You need to go online to our website and register. Then apply for a job and go from there! Okay, thank you! (disappears)

ME: MAAAAAAAAAHHHHH.

Point number 1: I know you can apply online. But via their website, you have to apply for a specific job. I wanted to make myself available for short-term temp positions that I could quit at a moment’s notice in the event of something actually good coming up.

Point number 2: If you want people to apply online, why on Earth do you have a high street presence? It seems that having a publicly-accessible office is completely redundant if the staff refuse to actually do anything for you.

Next, bewildered, I wandered over to Burger King as I fancied one of their sweet chilli chicken sandwiches. I was confronted by a girl who looked about twelve.

ME: Hello. I’d like a sweet chilli chicken sandwich by itself please.

GIRL: I can’t do that.

ME: What?

GIRL: I can’t do that.

ME: No, no, I heard you. Still, what?

GIRL: I can’t do the sandwich by itself.

ME: Sure you can. You just don’t put it in the same bag as some chips and don’t pour me a drink.

GIRL: No, I mean it’s more expensive to have it by itself.

ME: What? That goes against every law of nature.

GIRL: But I can’t do it.

ME: But it gives a price for the sandwich by itself on the board up there. And it’s cheaper.

GIRL: Oh, you mean the sweet chilli Royale? I can do that.

ME: Right. Then let’s do that, shall we?

GIRL: MAAAAAAAHHHHHH.

Pro-Tip, BK: don’t have two things on your menu with almost identical names. It confuses your sales staff. And your customers.

After that, I fancied a coffee. I didn’t get a drink from BK because I specifically wanted a decent cup of coffee. So I wandered over to Costa. Inside, a lemon cupcake glared at me from within the glass case and I decided that yes, that might be a nice accompaniment too. So I wandered up to the counter, only to be confronted by another girl who looked about twelve.

ME: Hi. A medium latte and a lemon cupcake to have in, please.

GIRL: Any cakes or pastries?

ME: I just asked for a lemon cupcake.

GIRL: Oh, right. Is that to have in or to go?

ME: I also just asked for it to have in.

GIRL: Oh, right. A medium latte, right?

ME: Right.

GIRL: And a lemon muffin?

ME: No. A lemon cupcake.

GIRL: MAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH.

When I finally got my coffee, it was accompanied by a lemon muffin, not a cupcake. I didn’t complain, as muffins are more expensive than cupcakes and she only charged me for a cupcake. Take that, The System!

My point is, though, all of these incidents could have been easily avoided by the above people acting like actual human beings rather than robots. It’s unnecessary to have a script to ask people whether they want a cake with their coffee. I have never heard anyone reconsider whether they want a “cake or pastry” after being asked that question. If someone wants a cake (or pastry), they’ll generally ask for it. If they have already asked for it, you don’t really need to ask it again.

The drive to make the world more efficient by standardising everything – including the things employees say – is actually making it more inefficient. So the next time you get asked a stock question by a drone behind a counter, try responding with something they don’t expect. Like this:

COFFEE CHICK: Any cakes or pastries?

ME: Do you like badgers?

COFFEE CHICK: Uhh… is that to have in?

ME: The surreptitiously-garbled mongoose is flatulent in the willow tree.

COFFEE CHICK: Leave before I call the police.

ME: MAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH.

#oneaday, Day 111: Post-Mortem

Good morning! Lovely day, isn’t it? Who am I kidding? It’s grey and miserable outside and I woke up at midday. Rather than just lying there stewing in my own self-pity and the stench of a night out, though, I decided to get out into the fresh air and locate some decent coffee before I melted into a puddle of apathy on the floor. Now I’m back and not actually feeling too bad.

After any drunken night out, it’s always wise to take stock of anything stupid you may have done in order to prepare yourself for any potential repercussions. As technology has advanced, the number of ways in which one can humiliate oneself has exponentially increased. Pre-mobile phones, you could just make a twat of yourself in person. Then there were phone calls. Then there were text messages, emails, tweets, Facebook, blogs and all manner of other media with which to do something dumb. Fortunately, the evidence seems to suggest that I only used a few of these last night. This was largely due to the fact my iPhone battery ran out partway through the evening thanks to us all playing with the Omegle app in the pub before moving on to nightclub “Unit”, where ChatRoulette was playing on a big screen, cocks and all.

So, let’s look at the statistics, then.:

Friends getting lost: 1
Friends unable to open their own front door because they were turning their key the wrong way: 1 (the same person)

Phone calls made: 0
Phone calls received: 2 (from the above person)

Voicemails left: 0
Voicemails received: 1 (from the above person)

Text messages sent: 18
Text messages received: 11
Text messages sent to people I shouldn’t have: 0 (whew)
Text messages I regret sending: 0 (double whew)
Text messages along the lines of “I LUV U UR SO AWESOME LOL”: 4
Text messages containing spelling errors: 17
Text messages containing perfect spelling: 1
Text messages containing errant punctuation: 1
Inadvertent mentions of sadistic/masochistic sexual practices: 1

Tweets tweeted: 13
@replies: 1
Mentions of friends trying to kill me: 1
Aspersions cast on friends’ respective sexualities: 2
Aspersions cast on friends’ respective sexualities based on their taste in music: 1
Twitpics/yFrogs: 3
Tweets containing the same picture inadvertently posted twice: 1
Tweets containing hand-drawn “artist’s impressions”: 1
BAP!s: 1
Tweets in ALL CAPS: 0.75
Tweets attempting to quote Annie Lennox songs and failing: 1
Tweets using the hashtag #drunk: 2
Perfectly spelled tweets: 2
Unnecessary requests for readers to fuck off: 1

Blogs posted: 1
Spelling errors in blog: 0
Blog lucidity: 95%
Mentions of men masturbating on webcams being horrifying and compelling at the same time: 1

Not bad. Could be worse. Let’s see a few highlights then, shall we? I hasten to add, these are all ones I sent, not received. Let’s start with some text messages:

Typical post-drunken “THANK YOU FOR AN AWESOME NIGHT!” text. Note the time. I’m impressed I managed to somehow insert a web address and misspell my own name. And what “sebsexbexsusecim” means is anyone’s guess. It’s probably not what you think. Let’s do itcagsin sometime.

The top message covers several of the above bases. We have the “I LUV U UR AWESOME” (“I need to ve ariuvs awesome people and you are awesome. :)”). We have errant punctuation (“..23@@”) and a whole lot of misspelled words. Then underneath we have a beautifully lucid one, proving that the nonsense was more a product of typing too hastily rather than complete spastication. Also, watch out or o can come koj you.

I wasn’t aware my mam was there. Nor do I remember any S&M going on. But it’s all right, because I apologies forcant errors. Note that I appeared to have given up attempting to type “Pete” by this point.

Here are the tweets. I think I can let them speak for themselves. Click for a close-up and read from bottom to top.

And I’ll leave you with my “artist’s impression” of ChatRoulette, drawn using Brushes for iPhone while this very situation was unfolding on the big screen a few metres away from us:

NEXT! NEXT! OH MY GOD! CLICK THE NEXT BUTTON! QUICK!

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#oneaday, Day 108: Just Like Marilyn Monroe

I went dancing last night. Yes, you read that correctly. You can blame @Amy_Walker for the bizarre image you undoubtedly have in your head right now. She twisted my arm rather less than I expected she’d have to and I agreed to go along and give it a try.

“It?” I hear you cry. Doubtless you’re wondering exactly what kind of wibbling around on the dance floor I was taking part in. Could it be ballet? (No. I don’t look good in tights.) Street dance? (No. Largely because the music makes me want to throw dustbins. But also because it looks far too difficult.) Ballroom dancing? (No. I don’t grin like an idiot enough.)

Dance in question was Mo’Jive, which is, I believe, short for Modern Jive. (Apostrophes make everything cooler, as everyone knows.) It’s actually kind of difficult to describe, but appears to involve lots of holding hands, offering resistance, spinning people around and trying not to accidentally grab anyone’s boobs. It appears to be a pretty versatile sort of dance, too, with the music that was played ranging from the very modern to more traditional stuff from the 50s and 60s. It’s deceptively energetic, too. Although the moves themselves feel relatively straightforward to perform in terms of the amount of effort involved (if not in the considerable amount of coordination required) by the end of the night I felt like I’d had a decent workout. Obviously not quite the same as lifting weights or anything, but definitely from a cardio perspective, things were happening.

I learned three moves throughout the course of the evening which I believe were called the First Move, Push Spin; the Hatchback; and the Man Spin. The geek in me was delighted that I had genuinely learned a selection of moves that sounded like they’d require some pretty advanced button combinations to pull off. (“Man Spin” is quarter-circle forward followed by punch and kick together, if you’re curious.) The social spaz in me was delighted that I didn’t make a complete tit of myself in front of lots of different people. And, well, just me was delighted that I was actually doing something I’d never done before and never thought I would do.

Okay. I made mistakes. I kept using the wrong hand halfway through a Man Spin. I occasionally did too many turns in the middle of a First Move, Push Spin. Sometimes I got completely lost and had to start the whole sequence again. But by the end of the night, I was looking surprisingly convincing. Amy even told me earlier today that several friends she knew from the sessions had mentioned how quickly and well I’d picked things up – especially considering I’d never tried it before. She assured me that she wasn’t just saying it to make me feel better, too. I think I believe her.

I had a good time. No, a really great time, actually. After recent events, I’ve found it especially important to get out there and do stuff. Sitting at home being miserable isn’t going to achieve anything. So I’m glad I stepped out of my comfort zone for once and pushed myself to do something that I wouldn’t normally have even contemplated doing. And more to the point, the results were far from disastrous. It’s given me a bit of much-needed confidence, and God knows I need some of that right now.

I’ll leave you with this, which has to win the Scary and Hilarious Music Video of the Week award. Gotta love the Right Said Fred. Enjoy.

Post-Script: I hasten to add that the Mo’Jive class Amy and I attended didn’t involve any topless bald men, bikini-clad ladies or swimming pools. Or indeed dancing in the style seen in the video. If you’re curious about what it’s actually all about, check out the Mo’Club here.

#oneaday, Day 100!

And there it is. With little fanfare, just after midnight on the day before my birthday, I hit the big 100. That’s one hundred days of continuous blogging. And, while some older entries have now been set to private for reasons I won’t go into, I have 100 posts all lined up one after the other showing me… well, nothing really. Nothing apart from the fact that I can keep up a commitment I set to myself to do something that I enjoy and is of at least marginal benefit to me.

Blogging is cathartic. At least to me. Some people focus their blogs on one particular narrow subject and make that specialist subject the only thing they talk about. I’ve toyed with that idea for some time – this being me we’re talking about, video games are a big part of that, but that’s not the only interesting thing that goes on in the world. In limiting myself to talking about one thing and one thing only, I’d be limiting my potential audience, even if the company I mostly keep online are largely video game enthusiasts themselves, too.

One thing I have enjoyed about writing these #oneaday posts is the opportunity to write something a bit different. Some days it’ll just be a personal comment, like today. Other days I’ll do a write-up on a particular issue. Other days I’ll post photos. Looking at the stats, though, it’s sometimes difficult to see patterns. The best day recently (with a mighty 90 views) was the day I responded to Roger Ebert’s “games will never be art” assertion (after midnight) and later that day (after actually sleeping) posted some pictures with the iPhone Hipstamatic app. The Ebert issue was a hot topic, so it’s unsurprising that saw a big spike. I had a similar pattern when I posted about Kevin Smith’s experience with SouthWest Air, another hot topic of discussion around the Internet.

So I guess if I’m chasing page views, hot topics are the way forward. Well, duh.

But I’m not going for page views, really. I mean, it’s always gratifying to know that people are reading what I’m writing (and even better, responding in the comments) but when I write these things, I’m doing it for me. Keeping it daily like this is like keeping a diary, something I’ve done several times in the past. I always used to greatly enjoy keeping a diary but always, without fail, ended up writing something so utterly mortifyingly embarrassing in it that I’d end up throwing the book out in case anyone ever saw it. I actually regret that now, as lame as the things I wrote were (usually involving chicks) as if there’s one thing I always enjoy doing, it’s reading back over past things I’ve written.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve been re-reading this blog from the beginning. It being a blog and not a novel, there’s obviously not a sense of structure. But there is a curious sense of narrative, whether it’s saying an open and heartfelt goodbye to the family pet, discussing my time with No-One Lives Forever (still a top search term to find this blog), exploring the stranger side of indie games or reviewing a local band. I remember these things happening, as small and inconsequential as they mostly are, because I wrote about them. We all have “big memories” of the life-shaping events that take place in our lives – good or bad. But the thing I’m truly appreciating about this whole exercise is that it gives me the opportunity to remember the little things, too, however little relevance they may hold to the “big picture”.

If you’ve read anything at all on this blog before, you’ve shared in some of those memories. They may not seem significant to you. Some of them don’t even seem significant to me. But thanks for letting me share all those things with you. I hope I’ve entertained, informed or at least given you something to do while you’re bored. I’ve certainly enjoyed writing them – at no point has it ever felt like a chore. Which is, as they say, a Good Thing.

It figures that on a big milestone day like this one, I go off onto a completely dumb stream of consciousness ramble. There are many more days ahead of this one, each holding new memories ready to commit to a post. I’m looking forward, wondering what will come next.

Here’s to the next 100. Good night.