Today I had an interesting experience. It's one that I wasn't sure about in the run-up to it, and I might even say that I was nervous enough to be almost "dreading" it — but I'm pleased to report that it all went well.
The experience in question was meeting up with someone who was one of my best friends back during our mutual school days, but someone whom I haven't seen for more than 20 years. I had, for many years, assumed that our lives had simply diverged, and that was that — it's happened with plenty of other people in the past, so one more wasn't a particular surprise.
Imagine how surprised I was to get a message from my Dad a little while back, though, telling me that one of his friends had happened to come into contact with this erstwhile friend of mine, and that the latter was interested in reconnecting with me.
I initially wasn't sure what to make of the situation. As I say, our lives (and lifestyles) had diverged significantly around our university years, as we had gone to different places and studied different subjects — though in a peculiar twist of fate, I did spend two of my three years at university living with his then-girlfriend. Not in a dodgy way, I might add; we were just friends, and it seemed optimal for everyone involved to come to some sort of arrangement.
Anyway, at some point in our third year of study, my erstwhile friend went over to Europe to continue his studies and, as our time as students came to an end, we sort of lost touch. As I say, at the time I felt like it was mostly a case of our lives and lifestyles moving in fundamentally incompatible directions — sad, to be sure, since we had been the best of friends at school, but an understandable symptom of growing up and growing older.
Thus it was that I arranged to meet him this evening in the hotel where I'm staying for my monthy visit to work. He happened to be in the area and definitely seemed keen to meet, so I decided that I would take a chance and see what would happen. I was nervous — scared, even — but also very conscious that 20+ years can make a lot of differences in someone's life and way that they live, so I was hopeful that we'd be able to sort of… "reboot" and see what happened there.
I'm delighted to report that things went well. A lot has happened in 20+ years for both of us, and we spent a lot of time catching up on things. But at the same time, my friend that I once knew was well and truly back. He was not the person that I had drifted out of touch with for one reason or another; he was the person that I used to know, and before long we were swapping stories, sharing truths and talking just like the big 20+ year gap had never happened.
I'm happy about this, for a number of reasons. I'm happy that I reconnected with someone who was once an important part of my life. I'm happy that his life seems to have gone in a positive direction, even if the course of it has taken a very different trajectory to mine. And I'm happy that the person I used to know is still there. Or has come back. Or some combination of all of those things.
To put it another way, this was a worthwhile exercise that I'm glad I took a chance on. It would have been so easy to make an excuse and try to get out of it — I've done this in the past with social occasions I've been uneasy about — but no, I decided that what I needed to do was take a chance on this, and just see where things ended up.
As it happens, I feel like they ended up in a good place. I hope this is the beginning of not just one rekindled friendship, but several — as he put me in touch with a couple of other people who had expressed an interest in reconnecting. We shall have to see where that all goes.
Anyway, after all that, my "social battery", as the kids call it these days, is well and truly depleted, so I am going to sit and play video games until it is time to go to bed. Good night!
It is 1am and, surprisingly, I am wide awake. And this is after an evening of drinking… well, I'm not sure I'd say heavily, but we all had a fair few cocktails over the course of 6 hours or so. None of those cocktails were astronomically, brain-fryingly strong, though, so right now I just feel quite… pleasant. Which is nice. The last few times I've had a drink I've found myself just skipping the "happy drunk" phase and going straight to "maudlin".
It was the Eurovision Song Contest this evening. I never feel like I particularly give a shit about this, but if it's on I always find myself getting curiously invested in proceedings. We missed most of the actual performances because we were out in the garden having a barbecue, though we did have them on the radio in the background, so at least we heard most of them.
Without getting too much into global geopolitics, it was looking a bit… risky for a while, shall we say, but I don't think many people will have had too many complaints about Austria winning. The song itself was a bit boring, but no-one can deny the impressive range and power of the Austrian chap's voice. Very operatic. Very impressive.
I find it curious that Eurovision is often described as being very "camp" and even "gay" or "queer" — and I'm not denying any of those things, I hasten to add — while simultaneously having plenty of performances and costumes that heterosexual people would also get a kick out of. I guess a sexy bod and a sexy outfit is always a sexy bod and a sexy outfit, regardless of what gender identity or sexual orientation you're looking at it from.
I suspect the "camp" and "gay" descriptors tend to apply primarily to the performances in their entirety: the flamboyant, overdramatic productions that most of them involve are, for whatever reason, associated with queerness, and that, in turn, gives the whole thing a distinctly queer identity of its own. At least, I suppose that's the case, anyway. I am not, I hasten to add and emphasise strongly, an expert.
Perhaps the argument runs something like "Musical theatre is flamboyant and overdramatic, gay people like musical theatre, therefore anything musical theatre-adjacent that is flamboyant and overdramatic must be gay." I think I've cracked it! Or maybe not. I don't know. I've drunk four cocktails this evening and consequently I'm not entirely sure my powers of reasoning are the best right now, and I probably shouldn't even be typing this. But oh well. It's done now. And, I think, without any spelling mistakes. Certainly a far cry from certain earlier entries on this blog. Or, rather, the tweets I sent the night before the blog after. In fact, you know what, let's revisit those for posterity. (Read from bottom to top for chronological posts.)
For context, these were sent on the 7th of May, 2010, when I was absolutely twatted off my face, basking in the misery of my first marriage having broken down and the prospect of having to move back home to live with my parents for a while. I, obviously, apologise for the errant homophobia, but, y'know, different times and all that. Not that it was particularly acceptable then, either. But I'm sure most of you reading this have some off-colour things you say when you're among friends. And, at the time, my Twitter account was pretty much entirely "among friends".
I haven't seen most of those lovely people for quite a while, though I did randomly run into "dollydaydream" at Specsavers a couple of weekends ago while I was getting a new pair of glasses. That was nice. Hopefully we can have a proper catch-up soon.
I kind of miss that (relatively) youthful exuberance. At the same time, I'm also glad I'm not going out in town on a regular basis, because going out drinking these days is expensive. Much better to just have a few nice drinks in your nice comfy home with people you enjoy the company of, and actually be able to hear one another.
Does that make me an old fart? Almost certainly. But y'know what, I don't give a shit. And now, as a great man once said: Going to bd. Fuck off. Nght night.
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The "culture shock" of watching it for the first time in more than ten years has mostly dissipated now, and the fact that no-one is ever seen fiddling with a mobile phone, looking things up on the Internet or experiencing life entirely through their camera lens feels pretty much natural now. Stop to think about it, and it's still clear that the world has changed a lot — mostly for the worse, I'd say, unfortunately — but after a while, Friends has, for me, shown that it has that magical "drawing you in" nature that means it doesn't matter that it's dated in some ways.
Friends was never really about a specific time period, anyway. Sure, it acts quite nicely as a snapshot of the late '90s and early (pre-smartphone) '00s now, but I'm not sure it was ever intended to be that. Instead, it was a show that was always about the people: specifically, it was about the concept of found family, and how the group of people you chose to surround yourself with was just as important as — or in some cases, more important than — those you were related to by blood.
I must admit to a certain melancholy about viewing Friends in this light, because for all the wonderful conveniences and whatnot we have today, I miss just… hanging out with friends. I miss everything from walking a couple of miles into town during a free period of sixth form in order to get peer pressured into buying a new N64 or PlayStation game. I miss skipping lectures to go play Perfect Dark. I miss Board Game and Curry Night being a regular thing. In short, I very much miss having that "found family", because in 2025… it just doesn't feel like it's there any more, for a whole manner of reasons, not just technology-related.
But at the same time this is why I find an occasional rewatch of something pleasantly familiar like Friends to be extremely comforting. I may not literally be there with the main cast — and I wasn't back at the time, either — but the nice thing about the show is how it makes you feel included. You see the ups and downs of each of the main cast's lives; you see the little in-jokes they have with one another and you understand where they came from, because you were there when they were first coined. And you root for them; even seeing what colossal dildos they all are at various points in the series — particularly both Ross and Rachel — you cannot help but root for them and wish them happiness.
And the nice thing is, you know they get that happiness, because it's that kind of show. Even if you've never seen the show all the way to the end, you almost certainly know what at least some of the main "resolutions" are going to be. Arguably it's only really Joey who is left without a real sense of wrapping things up neatly — and his spin-off series didn't really fix that either, though I must confess I haven't seen it — but even so, one gets the feeling he's probably going to be all right.
It's a bit sad how many of the Friends cast are no longer with us. Matthew Perry was, of course, a tragic loss a couple of years back, and I was sad to learn recently that James Michael Tyler, who played the recurring coffee house barista Gunther, passed away in 2021. Add this to the fact that several people from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, which I watched all the way through a while back, are also no longer of this world, and it's a little bit sobering. At least they all have a wonderful legacy to leave behind.
This got a little more morbid than intended, but whatchagonnado. Friends is still a wonderful thing, and I am really enjoying my rewatch of it. There's nothing quite like returning to the media you loved in your formative years to bring a teensy bit of comfort to the bleakness of modern existence. If you haven't done it for a while, I highly recommend it.
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I watched the first episode of Friends over lunch today. By my reckoning, it's over 10 years since I last watched Friends all the way through, and I've had a bit of a hankering for it recently. It's nothing to do with the inexplicable rise of Friends merchandise (up to and including Krispy Kreme doughnuts) in the last year or so but rather simply the fact that Friends always was, more than pretty much anything else on television, my "comfort show".
I was always aware that Friends was going to age. Hell, when I first started watching it, the first season in particular already looked very dated in terms of the fashion sense and hairstyles. But there are ways in which it shows its age now that I wouldn't have considered back when I was obsessively watching it as a teen.
The laugh track, for example. Audience or canned laughter has completely fallen out of favour for TV shows over the course of the last 20-25 years or so, to such a degree that there are those who find it (if you'll pardon my use of GenZ vernacular for a moment) "cringe". Even people who were there for it first time around.
Honestly, I've never had a problem with a laugh track. In fact, with Friends, it was part of the experience — as emphasised by the YouTube videos that remove it and make Ross in particular look like a psychopath as a result. But it was more than just a signal of when something funny had happened; I really enjoyed hearing the audience reactions that were other than just laughter.
For example, during that all-important moment in the second season where Rachel learns exactly how much Ross was in love with her in his late teens and ends up kissing him, there's an absolutely glorious moment as she walks across the room to him in complete silence, the only sound being her shoes echoing on the hardwood floor of Monica's apartment. Then, as she comes up to Ross and grabs his face in preparation to kiss him, there's an audible gasp from an audience member that feels completely genuine. Then, when the kiss happens a moment later, there is cheering, screaming and applauding. It's an amazing moment, made all the more amazing by how the audience had clearly been rooting for them, but were unsure if the writers were ever going to resolve that particular dangling thread.
Friends, like many shows of its time, was filmed in front of a live studio audience, and this allowed the cast to work around the laughter and other reactions. Supposedly Lisa Kudrow, who played Phoebe, absolutely hated it when the audience interrupted her lines with laughter, but she never let it show. At the other end of the spectrum, it's abundantly clear that the late, great Matthew Perry adored playing to the crowd, with much of his delivery reliant on pausing for reaction and playing off the audience's response. It's different from what TV shows today do, yes, but it's not an inferior way of doing things by any stretch of the imagination.
Sometimes this backfires for a non-native audience, such as when a guest star shows up to rapturous applause from the American audience, but no-one in the UK has any clue whatsoever who the person in question is. (Okay, I very rarely knew who the person was, outside of a few obvious exceptions like when George Clooney and Noah Wyle, riding the peak of ER's fame at the time, showed up.) But you can get something from that even if your response isn't the same as the audience's; it's a sign that Friends was huge, and Hollywood people were almost certainly queueing around the block to make a guest appearance in what was, for a long time, the hottest sitcom in town.
With the bizarre resurgence in Friends merchandise there has been recently, I wonder how much it really resonates with a modern audience — i.e. those who grew up after the launch of smartphones, and after the ubiquity of the Internet had been well and truly established. Very few people in Friends even have a mobile phone, and computer use is rare to see, often the subject of comedy. The way people develop interpersonal relationships has changed massively since Friends' time. Hell, even the concept of just hanging out with your friends in person at their place is likely to be completely alien to some people — I was there for it, and it even feels like a distant memory to me, to be perfectly honest.
But the strength of Friends wasn't necessarily that it was a snapshot of a time and place — although, many years after it was current, it functions quite nicely as just that — but rather that it was a show with some strong, well-defined and nuanced characters, with a wide array of interesting storylines, many of which were rather boundary-pushing at the time of the show's original broadcast. So far as I'm concerned, it still holds up very well as a "comfort show" for me due to its familiarity — and I suspect, so long as a younger viewer can get around the culture shock of certain ubiquitous aspects of 21st century life just being flat-out absent from much of the show's run, there's still a lot they can get from it, too.
There is, I'm sure, plenty you can criticise Friends for if you want to get on the tedious "everything is problematic" bus, but fuck that. I love Friends, I always have done, and starting this new rewatch afresh this lunchtime, I suspect I always will.
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I'm pleased to report that all of us kicking up a stink over RoseTintedSpectrum's YouTube channel being wrongfully terminated yesterday has proven successful: our lad managed to finally get through to a human being at YouTube, and his channel has been reinstated, with just an obviously insincere, automated "apology" of sorts from YouTube attached.
This is obviously a good resolution to what was a stressful and upsetting situation for Rosie, and it should bring a few things into sharp focus for everyone. Corporations are not your friends. Corporations can and will take things that you have created away from you at a moment's notice. Corporations do not care, particularly when they rely on automation and "AI" to do their work for them.
Human beings are your friends. Individuals that you make a personal connection with are how you get by in this increasingly horrible world that we live in. Friendship groups and communities can get things done — the last 24 hours has clearly proven that, with Rosie's story not only spreading across Twitter and temporarily drowning out at least some of the white supremacy thanks to the few creators with a decent following who are still there, but also making some noise on BlueSky and even getting a writeup on the retro gaming website from the NintendoLife folks, Time Extension.
I find it kind of hilarious, tragic and frustrating that there are some folks who took glee in this whole situation. People such as the odious George "FunkySpectrum" Cropper, who has made his entire online life about spreading hatred of people he doesn't like. And people like one anonymous stroppy twat who goes by "GlamorousAlpaca" in Time Extension's comments, who just made shit up about Rosie for no apparent reason. But as frustrating as the sad, pathetic existence of these people is, they will never know the joy that Rosie is undoubtedly feeling right now: the understanding that there are people out there who like him, care about him and will fight for him when he has been wronged.
I'm glad that all this has been successfully resolved, but I'm concerned that this sort of thing seems to be happening a lot more of late. The cynic in me blames the rise in the use of "AI" in big corporations like Google; despite these systems being demonstrably fallible and prone to hallucinations, it seems big business is willing to trust its judgement, even going so far as to give it the power to completely remove someone's hard work from the Internet for a perceived (and, I reiterate, non-existent) infraction. It happened to me with WordPress.com, it happened to Rosie on YouTube and I'm sure we'll hear about it happening to other people, too.
The Internet continues to enshittify itself, but we can still find havens of sanity amid groups of like-minded, sensible, supportive and caring people. If you have been fortunate enough to find a group like that online, be sure to hold on to them with everything you have. I feel like they will only become more valuable to you as time goes on.
Oh, while you're here, go pop RoseTintedSpectrum a subscribe if you haven't already. Watch a few vids and leave a couple of nice comments, too. The lad could do with a smile after the last 24 hours.
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.
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I fucking hate TikTok. I hate "short-form content" in general, which means I loathe YouTube Shorts, Instagram/Facebook Reels and anything anyone feels the need to send me that is in a 9:16 aspect ratio. So if you're considering it… don't. I won't watch it.
My reasons for despising short-form content are numerous and varied, so I won't go into all of them here, but one thing in particular vexed me so when I stumbled across it yesterday that I felt the need to get this particular rant out of my system. And that is what I call the TikTokification of comedy — or, to put it another way, the divorcing of comedic moments from context purely so that idiots can quickly and easily steal them and share them on their mindless social media.
I've actually been thinking about this for a while. The first time I was particularly conscious of it was when I started seeing that a number of comedians had started upping their YouTube presence. And all their videos had a few things in common. Take a look at these thumbnails:
All of these are completely transparent clickbait. And while a certain amount of clickbait is a necessity on a platform as saturated with material as YouTube is, I really detest the whole "half a sentence" thumbnail format. I didn't click on this one, which has almost certainly floated across your YouTube recommendations at some point, either:
This, to me, is the YouTube equivalent of the Twitter engagement bait (that thankfully seems to have died a bit of a death… along with the rest of Twitter) where a brand would go "[our brand] is _________" and expect people to "fill in the blank". And people, dumb consumers that they are, absolutely would. And it didn't matter whether they were filling it in with obscenities or bootlicking nice things, it was engagement. It made the numbers go up. That's all that mattered.
It's the same with these comedy clips. I like all of those comedians above, but I don't want to click on their videos because it's rewarding manipulative behaviour, and also encouraging the main problem that I want to talk about today: encouraging people away from enjoying a creative work in its entirety and towards a grab-bag full of "best moments" that completely lack their original context.
Good stand-up comedy makes the entire show into an event, and runs a narrative thread through the whole thing. Not all comedians do this, but the best comedians, in my experience, make you feel like you've enjoyed a complete story by the time you've left the room. Sure, there may have been some deviations along the way, and the story may not have made all that much sense… but there was still a sense of narrative progression. A beginning, middle and end, if you will. For some great examples, check out Rhod Gilbert's show Rhod Gilbert and the Award-Winning Mince Pie and pretty much anything by Eddie Izzard.
When you slice a show up into little bite-sized bits, you lose that context. Sure, the individual moments might be funny on a superficial level, but you lose the added depth of them being part of something bigger. And that's a real shame. And this leads me on to the real reason I'm writing this today: my discovery yesterday that Friends, a TV show I absolutely adored during my formative years, has its own YouTube channel.
And yes, you guessed it, the Friends YouTube channel looks like this:
The stand-up comedy thing I can sort of forgive. While I much prefer seeing an entire stand-up set and enjoying that feeling of context and narrative, there are sometimes just single jokes or routines that you want to share with someone. And you can probably make the same argument about Friends.
But for me, and regardless of what you and/or the general public might think of it now in 2023, Friends was always about more than just the jokes. Friends was a phenomenon. Friends was about us spending 10 years alongside these characters in an important, turbulent part of their lives, and watching them grow and change. Friends was about us simultaneously being envious of these twentysomethings somehow being able to afford massive apartments in Manhattan, but also feeling like the moments they shared were relatable in their own ways.
And an important part of the entire experience was context. While Friends actually starts kind of in medias res, halfway through a member of this pre-existing friendship group telling a story in their favourite coffee shop, it still makes an effort to introduce us to everyone through the way Rachel enters the picture as a formerly estranged friend of Monica.
We feel included. We feel like we're learning who these people are — and over the course of the subsequent ten seasons, we really get to know everyone. And while the age of the show means that life in general is quite different for most folks right now — look how infrequently anyone on the show uses a mobile phone or a computer, for example — it's still relatable to anyone either going through that "20s to 30s" part of their life, or who has already been through it.
These characters grow and change as a result of the things that happen to them and the simple act of getting older. They enjoy amazing high points and some heartbreaking low points — although nothing too heartbreaking; this was a primetime comedy show, after all. But everything that happens helps to define these characters and make them more than simple, mawkish, two-dimensional representations of a single personality trait.
Slice all 236 24-minute episodes up into one-minute chunks, though, and you have content. You have individual moments that, in many cases, simply don't really work as standalone "jokes" because they rely on you knowing and understanding the characters and their relationships. And you have no sense of that ongoing growth and character development, because all these clips are posted in a seemingly completely random order determined by whatever the person running the Friends YouTube account felt like putting up today.
I realise this is a bit silly to get annoyed and upset over, but it's frustrating to me to see something that I loved so much in its original form and its original context be treated as fodder for the mindless content consumption machine of 2023. It irritates me to think that there are doubtless some people out there whose only contact with Friends will have been minute-long clips on YouTube, and through those they will likely have formed a totally different opinion of the show than someone who watched it from start to finish.
Is this elitist and gatekeepery? Not really, since Friends itself is easy enough to watch in its entirety via either streaming services or undoubtedly cheap DVD box sets that no-one wants any more. It's just the latest symptom in a disease that blights society, where no-one believes they have "time" for anything any more, so watch badly cropped minute-long 9:16 clips on double speed while they're doing their daily quests in Mindless Gacha Bullshit X, rather than settling down, taking some time to relax and just enjoying something in its entirety.
I hate it. Hate it. And while I'm aware there's nothing stopping me from doing what I describe above — I think I even still have my Friends DVD box set somewhere — it's exhausting just to be around all this short-form garbage, and frustrating to live in a world where seemingly no-one has an attention span longer than a TikTok video.
Re-watching Star Trek: The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine recently has made me more conscious of something that had been on my mind for a while: the fact that TV doesn't really seem to do lengthy credits sequences any more.
This isn't necessarily a bad thing, as in the case of Star Trek you're sitting there for a good few minutes watching swirly space and Patrick Stewart as Capt. Jean-Luc Picard and Avery Brooks as Commander Sisko (still in season one at the moment) and, consequently, without a credits sequence the show itself has a few more minutes to play with. But does that few minutes really make a difference? Perhaps when the show is a short 20-minute affair, but when it's 45 minutes or more there's a strong argument for saying the writers should maybe look at where a few bits can be snipped.
But anyway. Whether or not credits sequences are a good thing isn't really what I want to talk about today, since that would be a short discussion — yes, they are — but what I did want to talk about is the ones that have stuck in my head over the years. A good credits sequence is strongly iconic and does a good job of summing up what the show's all about — either literally, by introducing characters, or sometimes in a more abstract sense by using representative imagery.
These are in no particular order. Given how I'm attempting to call them up from my living memory, they'll probably in roughly chronological order, but I am making no promises. I'm simply going to provide them for your delectation, with a few words about why I like them, why they're important to me or why I simply find them memorable.
Henry's Cat
I hadn't thought about Henry's Cat for the longest time, but a brief Twitter discussion with the fine Mr Alex Connolly the other day reminded me of both its existence and its terrible but strongly iconic credits sequence.
I honestly don't remember much about Henry's Cat beyond the title sequence and the little bit of an episode I watched out of curiosity on YouTube the other day. But I do suspect it's rather a product of its time, and not the sort of thing that kids are watching on TV these days.
Count Duckula
Whoever uploaded this gets bonus points for including the "Thames" logo at the beginning. Ahem. Anyway. Count Duckula was brilliant. And I've watched a few episodes recently and it's still genuinely quite amusing thanks to some wonderful voice work and characterisation… not to mention its baffling premise of a vegetarian vampire duck voiced by David Jason.
Unlike Henry's Cat, the Count Duckula theme and intro has stuck with me all these years. However, I did not know until two minutes ago when I looked at Wikipedia (to make sure it really was David Jason who voiced Duckula) that Count Duckula was actually a Danger Mouse spinoff series. TIL, and all that.
Star Trek: The Next Generation
You can't really get more iconic that Star Trek when it comes to title sequences, and there's really not much more that needs to be said about The Next Generation — aside, perhaps, from the fact that when you look at it, it's actually rather basic. Once the credits themselves start rolling, it's little more than text and the Enterprise occasionally hurling itself at the screen.
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
I didn't like Deep Space Nine all that much when I was younger; its relatively "static" nature of being set on a space station rather than on an exploratory starship made it feel a bit more "boring" to the young me. Revisiting it recently has made me realise (or remember?) that it's actually really rather good — and certainly a lot more consistent than The Next Generation was in its early seasons.
I like the theme very much. It's one of those pieces of music that just sounds satisfying. What I did find interesting, though, was when they changed it very subtly starting in the fourth season:
It becomes faster, I think it's in a different key, the orchestration is different and the accompaniment is less "bare". It accurately reflects the show's noticeable change in direction from the fourth season onwards, not to mention the changes in the cast: Commander Sisko becomes Captain Sisko, The Next Generation's Worf joins the crew and Shit officially Starts Getting Real with regard to interstellar conflicts.
Friends
Friends was everywhere when I was a teenager, and I didn't mind because I enjoyed it a whole lot. The credits sequence was simple and straightforward, accurately summing up each character with a selection of season-unique snippets of their most iconic moments. It was fun to try and identify which episode each of the snippets had come from… you know, if there wasn't anything better to do.
Angel
Ah, Angel. Probably one of my favourite TV shows of all time, next to its companion piece Buffy the Vampire Slayer (which is also one of my favourite TV shows of all time, but whose credits sequence I never really rated all that much). Angel's intro was great in that it reflected the dark, brooding nature of its title character, but it also allowed the show to pull off one of its best features: the unexpected and surprising fact that while it wasn't afraid to deal with some seriously dark themes, it was very happy to poke fun at itself and show the silly side of the supernatural as well as the scary. The intro helped with this in that it set the expectation for a very "serious" and dark story, then in true Whedon fashion, it often subverted these expectations with the actual content of the episode.
Yuru Yuri
(This was the best video of the intro I could find that hadn't been snagged by YouTube's copyright laws. You'll just have to deal with the Spanish subtitles.)
I love Yuru Yuri. It's such a delightfully mundane and silly anime; very little actually happens in it, but by the end you have such a wonderful understanding of these loveable characters that it doesn't matter that they haven't done anything of note. The opening titles complement it perfectly, introducing the characters visually and setting the energetic, joyful tone for the rest of the show.
Love Live!
You'd hope a show about music would have a catchy theme tune, and Love Live! doesn't disappoint. This video (which repeats several times; you're not going mad) is from the first season and, like any good opening sequence, neatly summarises the show and its characters without them actually "saying" anything (although one could argue the lyrics of the song have a certain degree of meaning). Also it's just plain catchy.
Akiba's Trip
One thing I really like about Japanese games is that they treat them the same as anime — and that means that a big deal is made out of the opening credits, with music that is often released as a single in its own right. Akiba's Trip had a particularly strong opening with a catchy theme song, a good introduction of all the characters and, again, a summary of what to expect from the next few hours of your life.
Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory
The Neptunia series has some excellent songs throughout, but the opening theme for third game Victory is one of the stronger ones. It does a great job of capturing the games' energetic, joyful spirit and acknowledges their origins as a parody of the video games industry at large through heavy use of electronic effects and synthesised sounds. It also makes a point of demonstrating the extremely strong friendship between the core cast members — they may not see eye-to-eye about everything (or anything) but they stick together and help one another out.
Omega Quintet
Last one for now, otherwise I'll be here all night and I quite want to go to bed. I wrote a few days ago about how I like the fact Omega Quintet treats its episodic story just like an anime series, complete with opening and ending credits sequences. Here's the opening sequence, which you see not just at the beginning of the game, but at the start of every chapter. It's as delightful as the game itself.
(Couldn't resist, sorry. This post has nothing to do with The Order 1886.)
Spent the evening round at my friend Tim's house this evening. We played some multiplayer games and just hung out a bit. It was pleasant.
On the multiplayer front, we gave ZombiU a go properly now that I have a Classic Controller Pro or whatever the Wii U Xbox controller knockoff is called. It's much more playable than the cumbersome, weird Nunchuk and Wiimote setup we tried it with last time, and made for a far more enjoyable game.
ZombiU's multiplayer mode is a lot of fun. There are two distinct ways to play: a Capture the Flag-style mode and a variant on a "Horde" mode. Neither of these are conventionally implemented thanks to the focus on asymmetric play: one player has the Wii U GamePad, while the other has some form of more traditional control scheme (preferably a Classic Controller Pro) and plays on the TV. The GamePad player is essentially playing a top-down real-time strategy game, while the player on the TV is playing a conventional first-person shooter.
It's a simple idea, but very effective. The GamePad player is able to summon zombies of various types into the player's game by tapping the screen, though there are certain limitations: firstly, different types of zombies cost a certain amount of resources, which increase gradually over time; secondly, you can only have up to eight zombies summoned at once; thirdly, you're not able to just plop zombies down right next to the player: red zones on the map (including a mobile one in the player's immediate vicinity) show where you're not able to summon one of your minions. Each time you place a zombie, you creep closer to a level up, which allows you to unlock new zombies and abilities; in other words, the longer the match goes on, the more difficult it gets for the "Survivor" player.
It's definitely worth a try. Not sure how much "staying power" it has, but we played it for a good while this evening and it was consistently fun.
Having the opportunity to spend some time with Tim this evening got me thinking, though. It's been a while since we were able to hang out together, and with two of our regular board gaming group now considerably busier than they once were — one with a new house, another with a new baby — it's getting more and more difficult to find opportunities to spend time together and do fun things. This is all part of "growing up", of course, but, to sound like a petulant child for a moment, I don't like it all that much.
Over the last few months, I've found myself feeling quite a bit more isolated for various reasons. I haven't seen quite a few of my "real life" friends for quite some time, partly because they're busy with their own real lives — there are several new babies in my circle of friends, for example — and also partly because my own social anxiety makes me feel like I'm being a bother when I consider asking people if they have time to hang out.
There are lots of things I'd like to do with people, but I'm not entirely sure if the people I know now would be interested in doing them. I'd like to play board games with a wider circle of people, for example; I'm envious of my friends elsewhere who have groups who can meet much more regularly than mine. I'd like to play some role-playing games — both silly ones like Maid: The Role-Playing Game and more traditional ones like Dungeons & Dragons — but I'm not entirely convinced I know anyone who'd be up for it. And I'd like to shamelessly copy my friends Mark and Lynette in having a regular "anime and cocktails" evening (perhaps with less emphasis on the latter, as I don't drink much these days) during which we watch several different shows with markedly different themes. I am at least thankful that I can share Final Fantasy XIV with Andie.
Chances are I do know at least a couple of people who would be interested in some or all of the above, but it's sometimes difficult to know how to bring these things up — or, in some cases, how to ask to join other well-established friendship or activity groups who would be into this sort of thing. It's even more daunting to contemplate the prospect of finding completely new friends, so I have to wonder if I'll continue to be stuck in this faintly dissatisfied situation, never quite able to truly share some of the things I enjoy with other people?
Good morning from Dublin! Today has been a very long day. Technically it's already "tomorrow" but I haven't yet made it home from Boston (my connecting flight leaves in a couple of hours) so I thought I'd take the opportunity to scribble a quick post.
This PAX weekend has been pretty much everything I hoped it would be. I had a great time with my friends, I saw some cool stuff at the show and I picked up some fun swag.
Most importantly, we successfully carried a number of formerly Internet-only relationships into the offline realm. Doing this is always a nerve-wracking experience — regardless of whether said relationship is platonic, romantic or anything else — and so it's always a pleasure when things come together and we all get along.
I actually wasn't too worried this time around, though. Something brought us all together in the world of Final Fantasy XIV and the fact most of us have been together for nigh on two years now says something positive about us and what we mean to one another. There have been tough times, as with any relationship, and people have come and gone over time, but the people with whom I spent my weekend represent a core group that I have always very much enjoyed spending virtual time with — and it turns out I enjoy spending real time with, too. It's just a pity we're all so scattered.
"I'm glad everyone is exactly how they seem to be," said one of our number last night, possibly slightly fuelled by a beer or two. "It means that everyone's genuine. And that we're all as fucked up as each other."
That latter point is key, and not necessarily a bad thing. Almost without exception, we've all had Shit to Deal With to varying degrees over the years, and our adventures in Eorzea have provided not only some much-needed escape at times, but also an outlet through which we can talk about the things that have been bothering us with like-minded individuals.
And that is immeasurably valuable; in an age where it seems people are drifting further and further apart from one another for various reasons, it's comforting to have a group that is pretty much always there for you. I know I'm grateful for these friends, and I'm sure they are too.
Now coffee is calling, closely followed by a connecting flight, a taxi ride back home and then almost straight back out (hopefully with time for a shower first!) to go and teach clarinet to kids. It's all go, huh. I shall sleep well tonight, for sure.
It was the wedding of my friends Cat and John today up here in sunny Aberdeen, Scotland. It's pretty rare to have a horrible wedding — though I'm sure they happen on occasion — but I am, unsurprisingly, pleased to report that it was a jolly nice day, with a pleasantly short ceremony (in which I did indeed read the shit out of the poem I'd been provided with, and was subsequently complimented by all manner of people I'd never met before throughout the rest of the day), a tasty meal that struck a good balance between being posh and actually being edible, and an enjoyable evening of ceilidh music and dancing. (I must confess to not having indulged in much of the dancing, primarily because I don't really enjoy it but also because my trousers were at risk of falling down partway through Strip the Willow.)
Cat is one of my oldest friends that I'm actually still friends with. She was the first person I ever met at university, and something of a fixture in my life throughout the course of my undergraduate studies. We haven't seen each other all that much for the last few years — primarily because she lives in a whole other country (yes, Scotland totally counts as being a whole other country) — but it was nice to see her today and it be pretty much like the intervening years simply hadn't happened; the only difference was that she was wearing a big, impractical dress and had a different surname.
The fact I'm friends with Cat reminds me of one of my secret proudest moments. It may not sound much — particularly if you're not someone who has suffered with social anxiety — but it was a big deal to me.
Let me explain.
Prior to starting university properly, I had signed up for a pre-term music course, during which I'd have the opportunity to play with members of the university symphony orchestra, as we indulged in some intensive rehearsal and study over the course of a single week, culminating in a performance of Shostakovich's 5th symphony and Beethoven's 7th symphony. I had never performed a full symphony before, and here I was preparing to perform two of them after just a week of rehearsal. It was challenging, but fun.
What was more challenging to me, though, was the prospect of meeting new people. I'd already established in my mind at secondary school that I wasn't quite sure how to go about making new friends or meeting new people, so I was quite nervous about going to university. (I had also contemplated, as I'm sure many people had, making up a cool nickname for myself, but never quite had the guts to go through with lying to potential new friends about what "everyone calls me".)
So it was that I found myself in the lift after the first day of the music course, heading up to the 15th floor of Stoneham Halls of Residence to get a bit of rest. Also in the lift with me was Cat — although I didn't know who she was yet, aside from the fact that she was in the string section. As the doors closed, I decided that I was going to bite the bullet and actually try to make a new friend. So I introduced myself. And, as often happens when I take a social "risk" like this, I was surprised to discover that I didn't die, wasn't punched in the face and wasn't showered with acid from my conversational partner inexplicably turning into a giant, acid-spitting snake-like creature. Instead, I found out the name of someone, got to know them a bit and had a ready-made excuse to escape when I reached the 15th floor. Ideal.
Over the early days at university, I came to know Cat quite well. Having grown up in a school where interests were divided quite sharply along gender lines — it was also the days before being a geek was "cool", although the relatively recent introduction of Sony's PlayStation meant that situation was changing — it was quite surprising to meet someone of the female persuasion who not only tolerated the presence of video games, but also appeared to be genuinely interested in them. We spent many an hour sitting in my room playing Final Fantasy VIII and Point Blank together — to date, I'm not sure I'd ever be able to name Rinoa anything but "Cat" — and we had a most enjoyable time getting through our music (well, English and music in my case) degrees together.
In short, she's one of those friends that will almost certainly be a constant presence in my life for many years to come yet, and I'm really happy to see her so happy today. I wish her and John a long and happy life together, and that new life for them starts today.
Thanks for a great day, Mr and Mrs Cowe. Have a very happy life!
