#oneaday Day 172: Things you're not allowed to pretend you were the first to think of any more

Christmas is coming, and that means yet another year of people who think they are absolutely hilarious for informing you of their sudden revelation that Die Hard is a Christmas movie. Societal norms dictate that you are supposed to laugh at this, pretend you've never heard it before and explain, incredulously, that "it really is, isn't it?" or something along those lines.

As an autistic person, I have the regrettable tendency to spot patterns in everyfuckingthing, particularly human interactions. And, doubly regrettably, I find predictable patterns in human interaction oddly infuriating. One would think these patterns would make communicating with one another easier, particularly for one with the social anxiety that so often goes along with autism.

But no; somehow, I have transcended these "easy wins" of polite conversation and crossed over into the territory where I can see these mindless, predictable exchanges as being utterly meaningless, devoid of any real connection between the participants, instead just relying on quoting something other people have said a million bajillion katillion times over already.

I think my distaste from this at least partly stems from someone I knew at university who, in retrospect, was probably also autistic, as his sole contribution to conversations on numerous occasions was to repeatedly and relentlessly quote Blackadder, devoid of any context whatsoever. It wore me down so much over the course of four years that I was not able to even contemplate watching Blackadder for a good long while afterwards.

It's not just that, though, as I'm sure even a non-autistic person can understand how that would become exceedingly annoying over the course of four years. I think the thing that frustrates me more than anything is how I'm sure everyone involved in the conversation about how Lisa from Accounts "can't deal with the word 'moist'" knows that, in fact, Lisa from Accounts really has no strong feelings about the word "moist" and is instead simply parroting something she heard someone else say that she found quite amusing, perhaps in the hope that someone she likes might flirtatiously start using the word "moist" around her more, giving her ample opportunity to do that thing where people go "oh, no, stop, you big silly" and push someone away while laughing, when they actually just want to shag them.

Or something. I don't know. The very prospect of behaving like that has always annoyed me sufficiently that I never attempted to carry it through to potential shag territory.

It's the insincerity of it that bugs me, I think. It's the very worst kind of small talk; supposed "communication" that is doing nothing but fill silences, but nothing of any real substance is being discussed. People aren't actually getting to know one another or improving their relationships with one another when they have the "pineapple on pizza is weird, isn't it?" discussion; they're simply reading from the hymn sheet in a vain attempt to make themselves look Funny and Cool, because as everyone really tries to drum into you while you're growing up, Having A Good Sense of Humour is the most important character trait anyone can develop, regardless of situation.

I do not, at this point, wish to imply that I am devoid of a good sense of humour. In fact, I have a fucking excellent sense of humour, thank you very much. Well, okay, I still have pretty much the same sense of humour I did when I was 15 years old, which means I still find farts hilarious, but at least when you let out a particularly salty grunt in front of friends, family or colleagues, you're taking a bit of a risk under most circumstances. You're putting yourself out there (quite literally, in terms of gaseous emissions) and, effectively, saying "this is something I find funny" without resorting to material that Michael McIntyre might find "a bit tired".

Of course, I appreciate that there are doubtless plenty of you out there who think a rancid bottom-burp is the absolute worst thing someone can do in polite company. And that's fine, too. There are plenty of people I wouldn't (voluntarily) let off a trouser-trumpet in front of because, despite the autism, I know that it's not a good idea.

But even so. A fruity guff is something you've made yourself, rather than stolen from wherever these inane non-discussions came from in the first place. And thus, if you want to be pals with me, I'd much rather you let rip with a thunderous eggy woofter than even think about telling me how funny it is that Die Hard is "technically" a Christmas movie.

Parp.

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.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

#oneaday Day 171: The End of Grisaia

I've finally finished The Eden of Grisaia, and, aside from the prologue/after stories and gratuitous H-scenes, which I will probably save for tomorrow given it's getting late, that means I've finally brought this amazing trilogy to a close. Back when I first backed it on Kickstarter, I had been led to believe that it was one (well, three) of the best visual novels ever produced, and having now read the whole thing through from start to finish, I have to concur.

It's a long read, to be sure — the first game alone is somewhere in the region of 50+ hours, though the subsequent two are closer to the 25-30 hour mark — but it's one of those instances where the sheer length is kind of important to your sense of involvement with the whole thing; by the time you've reached Eden's dramatic finale, a big part of it all feeling so satisfying is because you've previously spent so much time with these characters.

And it's really interesting how the whole thing is handled. I won't go into specific details in this post as I'll probably do a more substantial writeup on MoeGamer in the very near future, but I will talk in general terms.

The Fruit of Grisaia, the first entry in the series, is set up in a typical "bishoujo game" format, where you make a few choices in a common route, then end up on a specific girl's route to see their story and endings.

The Labyrinth of Grisaia, the second entry, follows this up with a series of non-canonical "After Stories" which assume you're continuing from the good endings of each girl's individual route from The Fruit of Grisaia. But then it presents you with what it calls its "Grand Route", which, very unusually for what has up until this point seemed mostly like a fairly conventional romance visual novel, focuses very much on the protagonist.

Then The Eden of Grisaia picks up where the cliffhanger of Labyrinth left off, only unlocking its "After Story" and a short "Prologue" to the entire shebang after you've read the conclusion of the protagonist's tale.

Grisaia's protagonist is no ordinary man, you see. He's not a self-insert for the player, and you are not supposed to "inhabit his role" as you are in some other games. Yuuji, as he is known, is a complex, thoroughly fascinating character, and the way the trilogy gradually drip-feeds you the truth of Yuuji's full identity and background makes it consistently compelling. At the start of The Fruit of Grisaia, you think he's a bit of a weirdo who is starting a new life at a school that is also inhabited by a bunch of other weirdoes. Throughout The Labyrinth of Grisaia, you learn a lot about his past life that made him the way he was. And in The Eden of Grisaia, things build to a dramatic conclusion that sees Yuuji confronting his oldest and most feared foe in scenes that would make a Metal Gear game proud.

Yes, y'see, Grisaia's big secret, if it even is one at this point, is that it's not a standard school romance series at all, despite what The Fruit of Grisaia might initially lead you to believe. Mind you, with the high drama that occurs in each and every character route in The Fruit of Grisaia — which ranges from violent yakuza shenanigans to the post-traumatic consequences of having survived through a situation that involved, among other things, cannibalism — you'll barely be halfway through a route before you realise that there is definitely more going on here than might have initially appeared.

The series moves from being a tale about coping and moving on from trauma to some rather thought-provoking ruminations on war and terrorism in the information age. And it does so gradually and naturally; The Eden of Grisaia ends up in a very different place to where The Fruit of Grisaia started, but that just makes the journey feel thoroughly worthwhile. I can highly recommend the experience of reading through the trilogy, and I'll have more to say on the subject when I'm a little more awake.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

#oneaday Day 170: I really don't care about drama

I've been umming and ahhing about whether or not to post this, but if I can't speak freely on my own fricking website, I think I'll explode, so I'm going to say it anyway.

I really, really don't give a damn about any drama surrounding an individual behind a particular project. I'm not saying you have to feel the same way, but I do want to express that I find it continually tiresome and genuinely upsetting when I want to talk about something that I think is cool, but the first response is always "but [individual] worked on it, so it's bad (and by extension you are bad for having anything positive to say about it)".

I'm not going to talk about specific cases here, because even doing that has the potential to attract ire towards me, and that's not what this post is about. What it is about is the sense of frustration I feel that the real people who worked on a project end up getting punished for the actions or behaviour of one individual — and, by extension, the attacks people who express enthusiasm for that project end up suffering also.

It is an unfortunate fact of capitalist life that in order to claw your way up to the top of the heap, you probably have to be a bit of a shithead. The way capitalism works, the way business works; you need to be a bit of a shithead in order to see success. You need to doggedly pursue the things you want to achieve, and you need to defend your commercial interests. This is true for pretty much all industries, whether it's groceries, tech, publishing or whatever. I defy you to find any company out there with an executive suite that has never done anything you're not a particular fan of, all in the name of either pursuing their goals or defending their commercial interests.

Trouble is, when the higher-ups at a company do something that is regarded as "bad" or "indefensible", the real people who suffer are those who are just doing their job underneath. When one CEO behaves poorly, the people who are actually making the products that CEO's company is known for end up getting punished for it. They could do an absolutely amazing job on whatever they worked on, but still get punished because their boss once did "A Bad Thing", often several years ago.

This, unfortunately, spreads outwards. Because "(CEO = Bad) = (Company = Bad)", anyone who then expresses an interest in or an enthusiasm for the products of Company gets yelled at by people who care more about the CEO than the company or the product. And that leaves people feeling like they simply can't express their enjoyment of something they like just as a product, because of one thing the CEO did half a decade ago.

CEOs should, ideally, not do shit things. It would be lovely if we lived in a world where CEOs did not feel the need to do shit things, be it in the name of pursuing their goals or defending their interests. But we do not. And frankly, I am, I'm afraid, long past giving a shit.

I've seen too many pointless, unnecessary arguments and too many strained, even broken friendships over this sort of thing, and it just doesn't matter. We live in a joyless enough world as it is; we should not be attacking one another over the things we choose to have fun with, so long as those things are not actively hurting someone. And in the specific instances I'm thinking about here, no-one is getting hurt except the folks who worked on them, and the people being attacked for daring to say something positive about them.

That's all I'm going to say on the subject. I do not want an argument on this, I do not want anyone in the comments trying to tell me I'm wrong for feeling this way. I'm fed up and I'm annoyed, and I am absolutely not in the mood for someone to tell me I'm wrong for feeling that way. So if you're gearing up to type a comment like that, zip it. I do not want to hear it.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

#oneaday Day 169: Analysis paralysis strikes again

I'm having a bit of a "moment" this evening. I want to play something, but my brain is bouncing every which way while I try and actually settle on something to spend some time with. Part of the issue is that I've started several things, and when this happens I find myself feeling "obliged" to try and finish those off, but part of me also wants to experience something brand new.

To clarify: all the things I've started I absolutely want to finish. But I think I may have inadvertently overwhelmed myself with everything I have on the go already. So indulge me a moment, if you please, while I attempt to make some sense of what my brain is thinking.

Games I have started but not finished (and which I want to finish): Mon-Yu, The Eden of Grisaia, Ys VIII: Lacrimosa of Dana, Yakuza 5, Trails in the Sky Second Chapter, Atelier Lydie & Suelle: The Alchemists and the Mysterious Paintings, Little Busters!, Rance Quest Magnum

Games I am considering replaying for New Game+/DLC etc: Final Fantasy XVI, Final Fantasy XV, Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin, Blue Reflection: Second Light

Games I quite fancy starting: Loop8: Summer of Gods (yes, I know it's supposedly pump but I want to try it anyway), Rhapsody II, Kowloon High School Chronicle, Collar x Malice, Nights of Azure 2: Bride of the New Moon

Games I feel like I "should" start at some point but which seem to get knocked down the priority pile regularly: Final Fantasy IV/V/VI Pixel Remaster

You can hopefully see the issue I have presented myself with: a veritable horde of long RPGs and visual novels, all of which I want to play and finish. And I've rather stupidly gone and actually started a bunch of them and left them half-finished, which is where my analysis paralysis is primarily stemming from.

So let's take those "games in progress" and look a little closer.

Mon-Yu: Dungeon crawler that I started on stream, but have subsequently been playing off-stream, because I'm not sure it's the best game to "build an audience" with. Has the advantage of being extremely light on the narrative, so it's a game that, in theory, can be dipped in and out of as mood dictates. Its main disadvantage is that it's quite tough, so rewards protracted sessions. It's not super-long, though: I believe there are seven main dungeons and I'm on the fourth. So a bit of determination can probably bash this one out before too long.

The Eden of Grisaia: Visual novel that I'm really enjoying and have been wanting to see the conclusion to for nearly ten years. This is easy enough to fit in whenever, since it requires no decision-making, just concentrating on the unfolding narrative. I am presently about 50% through its main storyline, though there are some other stories that unlock after that is completed. This is something that, perhaps, I can play over lunch instead of watching videos, since I can just stick it on auto and watch it unfold.

Ys VIII: Lacrimosa of Dana: I love Ys, but I started this at the behest of one of my wife's friends, who was drunk at the time and wanted to see it. This means I'm not particularly invested in my current playthrough, so it's pretty much at the bottom of my priority list, and I might even just start it over when I come to play it "properly".

Yakuza 5: I also love Yakuza and am keen to get up to date with the series, but doing so feels a tad overwhelming right now. I am fairly early in this and haven't gone through much of the plot, but I have been enjoying the side activities, as is the law with Yakuza games.

Trails in the Sky Second Chapter: I had bold plans to play through "all of Trails", which was a silly thing to promise myself. I enjoyed revisiting the first Trails in the Sky, but Second Chapter's similarity to it made me feel a little burnt out going straight into it. I'm not far into this at all, but I'm far enough that I'm not sure I'd want to start over.

Atelier Lydie & Suelle: I was doing great on the Atelier MegaFeature over on MoeGamer, but I kind of ground to a halt with this game, not because I wasn't enjoying it, but at least partly because I started working on Rice Digital and thus didn't have time to commit to personal projects like this. It has been long enough that I think I can probably start this over when I want to come back to it.

Little Busters!: I took this with me on an overnight trip to work to play out of curiosity, and enjoyed the few chapters I played through, but again, haven't got far. Again, I think I would probably start this over when the time comes.

Rance Quest Magnum: Another game with Yakuza syndrome: I want to catch up on the series, but doing so is a daunting prospect. This game at least has the benefit that its early hours are relatively light on plot, and its quests are bite-sized, making it a game that you don't necessarily have to devote hours to in order to get the best out of it.

I'll also say it's worth noting that recently I finished Silent Hope, which was one of those games that had been looming over my head for ages, and it felt good to finally knock that one on the head. I also played through 1000xRESIST the other day, and enjoyed that a lot.

Thinking about things sensibly, then, the thing that would make the most sense would be to play The Eden of Grisaia when my brain is alert enough to read, Mon-Yu when I fancy bopping things until numbers come out. I drop Ys VIII, Atelier Lydie & Suelle and Little Busters! without guilt for now, and come back to them fresh and from the beginning when I'm not so overwhelmed. I review how I'm feeling after finishing either Mon-Yu or The Eden of Grisaia (or both) and consider whether to pick up where I left off in either Yakuza 5 or Trails in the Sky Second Chapter at that point — in other words, defer that decision until one or two things are checked off.

That sounds good, right? Okay, The Eden of Grisaia it is for now, then.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

#oneaday Day 168: On The Spectrum

I got that new Spectrum. I was going to call it a Spectrum Mini, but it really isn't — it's a well-crafted replica of the original 48K Speccy, rubber keys and all, only it has stuff like HDMI out, USB ports and suchlike.

Like TheC64 Mini/Maxi, TheA500 Mini and The400 Mini, it's an emulation box with a bunch of built-in games (48 this time) and the ability to load your own stuff from USB.

As I type this, a vast collection of Spectrum games and demos are copying themselves to a USB stick, so I haven't had time to try that side of things today. I have had a play with some of the built-in games, though, and they're a really interesting mix.

There's expected stuff like Manic Miner and Skool Daze — though no Jet Set Willy, interestingly — but of particular note is the selection of modern indies that are included. There's some really cool stuff in there, including a 3D platformer called Cosmic Payback and and light-based puzzler called Tenebra, both of which I've had some fun with today.

The Spectrum is not a system I know well at all, having grown up an Atari boy. So I'm thinking I may chronicle some of my explorations and discoveries on YouTube. While I'm on, I've never really covered the built-in games on TheC64 and TheA500 Mini either, so between those three I think they'll make some nice companion pieces to my 400 Mini playlist and all the other Atari stuff I've done.

These systems were bitter rivals back in the day, but today it's easy to be in a position where you can appreciate all of them. And you should, because they all have unique charms, for sure.

Anyway, that's a loose plan in place that I'll likely start on tomorrow. For now, sleep beckons!

#oneaday Day 167: What happened to plain ol' fantasy?

This is a discussion I've had a few times on Discord of late, but I don't think I've mentioned it here. So, being in need of something to write for today, I thought I'd ponder it here.

I grew up being rather fond of fantasy — you know, swords, magic, elves, goblins, that sort of thing. I attribute this primarily to my brother's girlfriend of his teenage years introducing me to HeroQuest and the Elric of Melnibone role-playing game; I never played the latter but I did play a fair few sessions of the former, and even managed to convince my parents to get me Advanced Heroquest by Games Workshop for one birthday, which I think has successfully hit the table maybe two or three times in my entire life. (Lucky it has solid solo rules!)

Similarly, one (well, two, technically, I guess) of my favourite book series growing up was David Eddings' Belgariad/Malloreon cycle, which chronicles the rise of young farm boy Garion into a god-slaying hero and powerful sorcerer. Also of note was Douglas Hill's Blade of the Poisoner and its sequel Master of Fiends, both of which were really for kids, but which I enjoyed and re-read numerous times in my youth.

What do all the above have in common? They're all simple, straightforward, old-fashioned fantasy. I add those qualifiers because I feel we don't get a lot of simple, straightforward, old-fashioned fantasy any more. We get a shitload of "dark fantasy", sure, and we also get a lot of "ironic parody fantasy". But just straightforward, simple fantasy? That feels like a dying breed.

To clarify what I mean by these terms: by "dark fantasy" I mean a world where everyone is either miserable or fucking (often simultaneously), the streets are made of mud and the dwarves say "fuck" a lot. By "ironic parody fantasy" I mean "teeheehee, the heroes of this fantasy world know what a 'level' is and talk like they're in a Marvel movie!".

Both of these have their appeal — they must do, otherwise there wouldn't be so fucking many of both of them — but I feel we've reached a point where "subverting the expectations of the fantasy genre" is now more of a cliché than… the fantasy genre itself. I hunger for a good old-fashioned tale of swords and sorcery where no-one says "well, that happened" or "fuck", and which culminates in the plucky young hero, who came from humble beginnings, punching out some sort of god-like entity.

It doesn't even feel like we get this in video games much any more. Final Fantasy has very much gone down the "dark fantasy" route in more recent installments and I think that has been a positive move for the series — Final Fantasy XVI and Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin are particular highlights from recent memory — and a lot of anime-style RPGs play up the comedic angle somewhat. There's nothing wrong with either of these things — I enjoy both when I'm in the mood for them — but sometimes you just want something a bit more… straightforward, I guess?

I'm intrigued to try out Metaphor: ReFantazio at some indefinite point in the future, though I suspect that veers towards "dark fantasy", and I have several dungeon crawlers waiting in the wings that might fit the bill.

I'm not mad about this or anything — trends and tastes change, after all — but I just think it might be nice if we could see a bit more in the way of old-school barbarians-in-loincloths-and-wizards-with-beards fantasy. It was a defining influence on me growing up, and it would be nice to revisit that.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

#oneaday Day 166: Only seven years late... and then some

Longtime readers of my blog and MoeGamer will know that the visual novel series Grisaia has been something of a defining influence on my media tastes for quite some time. Indeed, over on MoeGamer there's probably a book's worth of words on the first two games that I invite you to read at your leisure.

And yet. And yet. For some reason, despite coming to the end of second entry The Labyrinth of Grisaia in 2017 and being incredibly excited about the cliffhanger it ended on, and curious on how it might end up… I have only just got around to making a start on the final part of the original trilogy The Eden of Grisaia. I say "the original trilogy", because since The Eden of Grisaia's release in English, there have been numerous non-canonical spinoff titles released in the series, plus an entire second series of games known as Grisaia Phantom Trigger which, I believe, is eight volumes long. (Granted, I believe one "volume" of Phantom Trigger is a tad shorter than one of the original three Grisaia games, but still.)

Anyway, like I say, I have finally got around to starting The Eden of Grisaia. I was concerned it would be tough to get back into after seven years away from the series, but almost immediately I was reminded why I love this series, and why I've always considered it so important to me. So I'm definitely going to make reading through this final volume from the first trilogy an absolute priority, because I am thrilled to be back in the company of these characters.

But what is Grisaia? I mean, my simple answer to that is "go read the MoeGamer articles linked above", but you may not have the time to read a five-figure word count on the subject. So I will attempt to summarise the series thus:

Grisaia is, in part, a coming-of-age story about people finding their place in the world. This might not sound particularly unusual for a visual novel, and indeed Grisaia initially looks like it's doing its very best to be a fairly conventional high school romance sort of affair. There's an unvoiced male protagonist, a harem of young women who all come to adore him for one reason or another, nookie (in the 18+ version, anyway, which is absolutely the version you should be playing) and multiple endings.

But there's one fairly large spanner thrown in the works almost immediately, and that is the protagonist in question: Yuuji Kazami. He is anything but a "self-insert" or cipher for the player, and right from the opening moments of the first installment The Fruit of Grisaia it's clear that something is up with him. We join him just as he has walked 150km to get to his new school, Mihama Academy, and over the course of his interactions with the five main heroines, we come to learn that he has a mysterious "job".

Initially, the details of this "job" are kept exceedingly vague, but it becomes apparent very quickly that Yuuji is no ordinary high school boy. He is wise — and cynical — well beyond his years, and he uses this experience to help the heroines in various ways. He by no means acts as a "magic bullet" to solve all their problems for them, but his experience in the ways of the world helps him form an incredibly close bond with all five of them. In the original The Fruit of Grisaia, these bonds are implied to be exclusive, and indeed there are even "After Stories" in second part The Labyrinth of Grisaia that continue on that assumption.

But the main story of Grisaia really gets started in The Labyrinth of Grisaia. It's there we learn all about Yuuji's background — which I won't spoil here for the moment, but it's fair to say he is cynical, jaded and experienced in some curiously specialised skills with very good reason — and the whole thing concludes on a dramatic moment that effectively seems to take Yuuji completely out of the picture.

Now, it's a bold series that seemingly removes its protagonist from proceedings two-thirds of the way through, but that's exactly how final part The Eden of Grisaia starts. We switch to third-person narration and follow, for the most part, the exploits of the five heroines as they leave Mihama Academy behind and take on the seemingly impossible task of getting Yuuji back. We have occasional cuts back to Yuuji's present situation, but the focus is still very much on the heroines. At least it has been for as far as I've read so far.

This is a really interesting narrative technique, because it makes it abundantly clear that while The Fruit of Grisaia very much had a kind of "dating sim"-style setup in which you had to pick the right choices to get onto your favourite girl's route and then pick the right choices to get her "good" ending, The Labyrinth and The Eden of Grisaia have a very specific story to tell. Indeed, the main narratives of both unfold as a kinetic novel with no player input whatsoever. It's testament to the quality of the writing (and the translation) that Grisaia remains so thoroughly compelling, even after it takes away both the player's already limited agency in proceedings and the character they were supposed to be "inhabiting".

Don't mistake the switch to third-person narration as being boring, though. The Eden of Grisaia's narrator may be omniscient and non-participant, but they very much have a personality of their own, and they have some exceedingly entertaining remarks to make at times — usually at the expense of Michiru Matsushima, the group's resident "idiot".

Thus far I am very much back in Grisaia mode, and I can't wait to see what happens next. I also know that Grisaia games are a very long read — honestly, it's knowing there are probably 30+ hours of reading ahead that caused me to put off Eden for so long — but I am going to take my time and enjoy it.

In the meantime, if you've never explored the series for yourself, I still highly recommend it. Yes, it's a bit of a commitment to read all of it, to say the least, but it's a journey well worth taking. It's regarded as an absolute classic of the medium with very good reason, and my "Complete Box" version of it that I have on my shelf is absolutely one of my prized gaming-related possessions.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

#oneaday Day 165: A first look at Ludwig

Like many of us, I have become increasingly disillusioned with the role of police in today's society. I'm not an "ACAB" (look it up… actually, don't) type, but there have been too many instances in my personal experience of a clear crime being reported to the cops and them basically going ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ before spectacularly failing to do anything whatsoever. Despite this, I love a good detective drama, police procedural, anything like that. And so it was with some curiosity that I decided to start watching Ludwig from the BBC, a David Mitchell-fronted detective drama with a bit of a twist.

In Ludwig, Mitchell's character John Taylor is a renowned puzzle author who goes by the name "Ludwig", a nom de plume he adopted when first developing puzzles as a child while listening to Beethoven symphonies on vinyl records.

As the series opens, he is contacted by his identical twin brother's wife Lucy, who has booked a taxi for him to take the 150-mile drive to come and see her, but refuses to tell him anything. John, we quickly learn, is not a sociable type, and dislikes leaving the house at the best of times; Lucy, having known him (and his brother) since childhood, knows very well that presenting him with incomplete information will drive him nuts enough to actually leave his house and discover what mystery awaits his solution.

Turns out that Lucy's husband, John's brother James, has gone missing. He left behind a curious note basically telling his family to flee as quickly as possible; Lucy, being a headstrong type, refuses to do this and instead recruits John to pose as James — they are identical twins, remember — in an attempt to discover the truth of what happened to him. The only slight snag in this? James was a detective working at the local constabulary, meaning John must sneak into an environment he has no professional knowledge of and attempt to find some information from under the noses of people that, presumably, James knows quite well.

Matters are further complicated where, upon John's arrival at the police station, he is almost immediately dragged off to go and look at a crime scene. Caught in a situation where he is simply not able to refuse his partner, he ends up attending the scene of a murder and is completely out of his depth. After briefly fleeing the scene on the pretence of "getting some air", he realises that the case is nothing but a logic puzzle; putting on his "puzzling" hat, he then proceeds to solve it in the same manner he would solve one of those old logic puzzles from the books with the guy in his pyjamas on the front.

His unorthodox methods net him a suspect and a confession, though his colleagues and superiors note that had the confession not been forthcoming, the complete lack of evidence would have made the case impossible to prosecute.

What then follows is John continuing to pose as his brother, working on several cases while attempting to ascertain the truth of what happened to his brother. It gradually becomes apparent that his brother left a trail of puzzle-like "breadcrumbs" to follow, leading John to believe that his disappearance was not accidental or circumstantial; it was planned out in advance. And cracking a cipher James left behind in his notebooks is going to be key to getting to the bottom of the case.

So far I've watched two episodes of the series with Andie and we've both enjoyed it a lot. Mitchell is, of course, playing a variation on the bumbling, socially awkward character he always plays, but it works well in the context. The positioning of an obviously autistic character in a professional role he is absolutely not comfortable with (or trained for) is, at times, borderline farcical, but suspension of disbelief allows you to simply enjoy the spectacle of what unfolds. They mysteries presented are intriguing and keep you guessing, and John's tendency to follow through on his "hunches" keeps things interesting and pacy.

The music throughout each episode is absolutely excellent, too; perhaps predictably for a show called Ludwig, it's all based on themes by Beethoven. Rather than just using the themes straight, however, they are all interesting rearrangements, with variations on Für Elise making up the majority of the soundtrack and the show's main theme.

Genre critics might argue that each individual episode maybe wraps itself up a little too neat and tidily to be truly plausible — in both the episodes so far, the case being solved was dependent on one of the suspects "cracking" under the pressure of John's logical deductions — but honestly? I don't care. For the most part, I don't engage with any form of fiction, regardless of medium, to ponder its realism; I engage with it to be entertained and to get to know interesting characters. And Ludwig certainly provides both in spades. It's good, old-fashioned, entertaining television that strikes an excellent balance between drama and moments of levity, as one has surely come to expect from anything with Mitchell involved at this point.

It's a short series — just six hour-long episodes — so I'm looking forward to seeing where things go. I'm definitely glad I started watching it, and if you enjoy a good mystery, I'd recommend you give it a look, too.

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

#oneaday Day 164: Random access memories

It's peculiar exactly what memories your brain — or, well, more accurately, my brain — chooses to hold onto. One would think that your most "sticky" memories would be those that were defining influences on you; those which played a key role in shaping you into the person you are today. But I find that very difficult to believe when I contemplate some of my most vivid memories from years gone by.

For example, I vividly remember one lunchtime at primary school, my friend Matthew and I went to the rear of the school fields and did shoulderstands because we thought it would make us more likely to fart. I will freely admit that as a 43 year old man I still find farting far more amusing than I probably should, but I'm not sure that specific memory played a particularly developmental role in appreciating toilet humour. I haven't done a shoulderstand for probably more than 30 years and I doubt I could right now.

I have several other primary school memories, and unfortunately not all of them are particularly positive ones.

I remember playing one lunchtime with a girl I was friends with; we were doing some sort of "pretend play" involving swordfighting using sticks, and my mother happened to walk by the back of the field during lunchtime (it was a public right of way) and saw this play, misinterpreting it as me hitting the girl in question with a stick. I got in trouble for that, despite me knowing very well that I was perfectly innocent.

I remember one P.E. lesson at primary school — very early, infants level, class 1 or 2 — where I really needed to go to the toilet, but I wasn't allowed, and I ended up pissing myself in the playground. Rather than being embarrassed, I found it oddly fascinating how the piss would actually come out through my shorts.

Another P.E. lesson from the same "infants" period, so year 1 or 2, I somehow managed to shit myself without realising it. I didn't notice until I got home and my mother asked why there was a brown stain on my arse. Genuinely not knowing that I'd actually shat myself, I suggested that I must have fallen in some mud at some point. The contents of my pants a little later revealed this to not be the case, though to my mother's eternal credit, she simply made a comment along the lines of "it must have been some very strong mud to go all the way through your pants". To this day, I genuinely don't know how I shat myself without realising it.

Another time at school, again in the infants period, I felt sick during storytime, and yakked all over the floor. Once again, I found myself oddly contemplative about the experience rather than particularly embarrassed.

None of these experiences are what I'd necessarily call "formative". I mean, yes, I have low self-esteem and I'm sure none of those particular events helped in the development of that particular personality trait, but I don't think any of them were the root cause of it. Why do I hold on to those memories? They're not particularly "precious" or anything, though at a pinch I might suggest that I hold onto them because recounting them as an adult is at least slightly amusing.

There are others from later years, too. I've recounted the tale of "not remembering how to make friends" on my first day at secondary school numerous times.

Then there was the time I overheard someone I thought was my friend taking the piss out of me while sitting behind me in the county concert band, and when I jokingly confronted them about it, not wanting to believe that they'd actually been being mean, and them not exactly denying it.

There was the one time I did step out of my comfort zone and introduced myself to someone at university.

The time I sat, all dressed up and ready to go out, brooding in the window of my hall of residence kitchen, hoping someone would find me and I could unleash the hormonal sadness I was feeling because the girl I liked had got with a guy from downstairs.

That one Halloween I felt an incredible sense of self-confidence and liberation after completely hiding my entire body and face. Another Halloween where I dressed up as a monk and ended up not being entirely sure if I'd scored with a girl or not, since she had taken me back to her house, let me in and given me her phone number, then just sort of vanished.

That one evening in grotty student nightclub Kaos where a random bloke asked me if I'd ever done ecstasy, then almost immediately afterwards I scored with a veritable Amazon of a woman (my friend Owen called her "Xena", but her actual name was Beki) and the same bloke shook me by the hand, giving me a knowing wink and a smile, saying "yeah, mate, you'd definitely enjoy ecstasy". (I've never done ecstasy.)

I could go on. There are myriad little snippets of my life that are lodged away in my long-term storage that I don't really know why. I feel like these are the things that will flash before my eyes before I die, and I doubt I'll be any clearer on the reason why they're there at that point, either. Hopefully I won't have to think about that for a while, yet.

I don't really have a conclusion to these musings. I just think it's interesting all the useless memories our brains seem to hold on to. If there is a reason for it, I don't know what it is. Perhaps all those memories did shape me in some way and helped turn me into the gibbering wreck of a human being I am today. In which case… aren't I better off forgetting all of them?

If you want this nonsense in your inbox every day, please feel free to subscribe via email. Your email address won't be used for anything else.

#oneaday Day 163: A thousand resistances

Having finished Death Mark II last night, I kicked off a recommendation today: 1000xRESIST, which is a game title I have no idea how to say out loud.

I played it for a good 6 hours or so in total, so I think it's safe to say I'm having a good time. I thought I'd reached the end, but then a whole new bit started, and with it being half past 1 in the morning I thought I'd probably better stop.

I don't want to spoil too much about the game because it's very much a "story game" that is light on what we'd call traditional "gameplay" beyond moving around various beautifully presented environments, but I thought I'd pen a few words at least.

In 1000xRESIST, you play the role of Watcher, a clone of the mysterious "ALLMOTHER", the sole survivor of a global crisis that wiped out the rest of humanity. An entire society of the ALLMOTHER's clones has apparently sprouted up and is functioning about as well as can be expected in a futuristic post-apocalyptic dystopia where breathing the unfiltered air causes all your bodily fluids to leak out through your eyes.

What's particularly interesting about this game is that you get to see the "past" of the ALLMOTHER via various means, and because your character is from a time period that is completely unfamiliar with concepts like "high school" and "boys", there's a marvellously "uncanny" feel to everything you do and see.

It's not overdone, but it is almost intoxicatingly disorienting to begin with. As time goes on, you get used to it, though; you learn the curious little phrases that have come about as a result of generations' worth of worshipping the ALLMOTHER, and you start to understand why this peculiar society functions the way it does.

There's definitely a lot to unpack in the narrative as a whole, as there's a swathe of different themes tackled at various times. It's intelligently written, never patronising, and dear Lord is it (apparently) compelling, given the amount of time I've spent on it today.

Thankfully, I have a couple of days off work tomorrow and Tuesday, so I should hopefully be able to polish it off in that time. I'm keen to talk more about it, as I suspect pondering it on "paper" will help me process the many varied themes it brings to the table.

For now, though, sleep beckons.