1329: Day After

It was the wedding of my good friend James to his good wife Charlotte yesterday — an event which, apparently, had been a very long time coming. (I've only known James for a relatively short period of time and only met Charlotte once or twice, so it felt like a perfectly reasonable amount of time to me, but judging by the jokes in the speeches, it was, as I say, apparently a long time coming.)

In stark contrast to my friends George and Mitu's wedding the other week, which was a vibrant, multicultural affair that must have cost a fucking fortune to put on, James and Charlotte's wedding was a much more traditional British affair: church service, followed by retiring to a stately home for afternoon tea (including an astonishing variety of finger sandwiches and cakes), barn-dancing, a selection of meats (beef, lamb and pork — with crackling) and, of course, various types of booze on tap.

I must confess to having had a little too much to drink yesterday. I don't drink a lot these days, you see — Andie doesn't drink, and I normally join her on that, since the last few times I've drunk I haven't really enjoyed it all that much, and I don't tend to "go out" to occasions that involve imbibing vast quantities of alcohol very often, either. As such, my tolerance is considerably less than it was when I was at university and drinking fairly heavily on a regular basis. This makes me a cheap date, of course, but also means that I have to be somewhat… careful, particularly when strong drinks are involved.

The reception began with some Pimm's, which was flowing pretty freely and getting regularly topped up by some ninja waiters and waitresses — the moment your glass was less than half-full, someone would appear as if from nowhere with a jug and refill it. Pimm's is delicious, too, of course, and so it's perfectly natural to just keep drinking it if it keeps coming.

Then there was champagne during the toasts and speeches. I'm not all that fond of champagne these days, to be honest — not that fond of wine in general, in fact. I had a bit of a "wine phase" at one point, but have since gone off it somewhat so I was rather underwhelmed by the champagne, even though I can probably safely assume — judging by the rest of the day, anyway — that it was probably quite expensive.

Later in the evening came the real killer, though — there were two different types of scrumpy, one of which just looked like orange squash, and the other of which was called "Bee Sting" and looked a bit like elderflower cordial. I tried some of the latter and it's some of the nicest scrumpy I've ever tasted — very sweet, not at all "alcoholic-tasting" — but by golly it had a kick and a half, and you didn't really notice until it was too late. In my case, it was looking up at the stars outside the venue and staggering unsteadily around that made me realise that yes, I was, in fact, a bit pissed. Not overly so — certainly not enough to make me want to take to the dance floor or do anything particularly outrageous — but enough to affect my balance somewhat. I felt all right, though.

That is, until about 2:30 in the morning, when I woke up to an unpleasant feeling and an accompanying mental image of an army advancing on my position. As the army got closer, I started to feel worse, and attempting to distract myself from the encroaching horde only made me pay more attention to it. Eventually, as the sound of marching boots was bearing down on me and mental pikemen started clashing with mental knights, I felt that there was only one real explanation for the battlefield in my head and stomach, and there was probably also only going to be one resolution to, it, too.

I was correct. Afterwards, however, I felt considerably better and have remained pleasantly hangover-free, too. Which is nice.

1328: Saturday Morning Ramblings

Look, I managed to blog in the morning rather than last thing in the evening! This is probably a mistake, as we're supposed to be heading out to a wedding in about half an hour and I still need to have a shower and get dressed, but I have coffee to drink and I shower quickly. Yes, I bloody well do. So there.

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

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

ZZap!

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

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

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

1327: Friday Night Ramblings

Blergh. End of another week and my brain has just pretty much switched off altogether, so you'll forgive me if I indulge in little more than a stream of consciousness for the evening.

Today's been another week that feels like it's dragged a bit. Not sure why, really, because nothing especially out of the ordinary has happened — though that might, in itself, be the cause of the week dragging somewhat. Very little of note has happened, really, though I did my tax return earlier. Tax returns are shit. I am looking forward to not having to do them any more, though I will have to do one more next year to cover the last two months of payment from when I was self-employed. How irritating.

Anyway, you don't want to hear about that. What do you want to hear about? Oh, you can't respond. Never mind, then.

I was idly musing during a quiet moment earlier and had an interesting idea for what I might do for my not-NaNoWriMo month of creative writing this coming November. I'm actually quite pleased with the idea, but as with many of my ideas I find myself wondering if I'll be able to spin it out into a complete story. We'll see. I'm not going to share anything about it for now, but I might actually make a note of it. There are few things more frustrating for a creative type than having a really amazing idea (or at least an interesting idea) and then forgetting to make a note of it anywhere, so that by the time you actually have the time to do something about it, you've completely forgotten the cool thing you were going to do.

Fortunately, over the years I've discovered that I have a pretty good memory for fairly useless crap, including a host of half-finished stories — many of which I've been carrying around in my head since school. I really should actually make an effort and get some of them written; in fact, I have started writing some of them several times — one of them in particular — but often find myself getting a little hung up on the middle bit.

This may sound like a strange thing to get hung up on — surely the beginning and ending are more important? — but it's something that tends to bug me. Often I know where characters are going to start and what the finale is going to be; the difficulty is in determining how they are going to get from one place to the other, because those two places are often very different from one another. Obviously. (Or perhaps not, I don't know.)

Anyway, as you can probably tell, my mind is continually drifting at the moment so I think I'm going to call it a night for now. Andie and I are off to a wedding tomorrow so I almost certainly will be tired out by the evening, which means you can probably expect something similarly stimulating from tomorrow's post, unless I remember to write something in the morning which is, let's face it, based on previous experience, fairly unlikely. (I wish I would remember to write a bit earlier, though; it's nice to be able to wind down for the evening and not have to worry about writing this… though at the same time writing this forms a nice "end point" to the day where I can collect my thoughts before going to sleep.)

Anyway. Yeah. Whatever. Have a good weekend. Good night.

1326: Books with Shadows In Them

I have — I believe — two more chapters to go on Corpse Party: Book of Shadows, the sequel to one of my favourite PSP games, and, like its predecessor, one of the most emotionally engaging games I've ever played.

Book of Shadows is much more of a visual novel than its predecessor was — the RPG-style wandering around and pressing X on things is all gone now, to be replaced with either straight-up "read many, many pages of narration and dialogue" or, slightly less frequently, with some first-person perspective wandering and mild point and click adventuring.

The change in gameplay style isn't the most interesting thing about Book of Shadows, though; instead, it's the narrative structure. Rather than telling one continuous story like its predecessor, Book of Shadows is more of a spin-off than a true sequel — at least, as I understand it, anyway, until the final chapter — and instead chooses to spend its time telling self-contained stories that are either prequels to the events of Corpse Party, or "alternate universe" tales that answer a number of hypothetical "what if?" scenarios. For example, one scenario explores what would have happened if a character who died in the original Corpse Party had instead been rescued; another fleshes out one of the original game's "wrong ends" by showing you exactly what unpleasantness happened to a particular character; another still looks at the story of some incidental characters from one of Corpse Party's "extra" scenarios.

The fact that the game is being so experimental and exploratory in its various "short stories" is, in itself, interesting, but an even more intriguing thing about it is that the "correct" ending for each of the chapters is not necessarily a "good" one. Indeed, in many cases, all of the possible outcomes are filled with death, pain and suffering, but only one of them is the "correct" one that allows you to proceed to the next chapter. It's honestly surprising to see something really quite horrible happen to a particular character — even though I was expecting it, given the context — and for the game to then cheerfully announce that I had "cleared" that particular chapter.

This idea of a conclusion to a chapter not necessarily being a happy one is something the first game played with — the "true" ending to the first chapter of the original Corpse Party often has people reaching for the "reload" button the first time they see it — but Book of Shadows really runs with it. It's something that it's interesting to see games experimenting with, since most games still take the "happy ending" as the default, "best" or only option, and it's pretty rare to play something that genuinely ends on a downer. (Of course, I don't know how Book of Shadows as a whole concludes, but I have the distinct impression that at least one or more of the characters will probably not get out unscathed.) There are a few exceptions, of course — Conker's Bad Fur Day being one of the most surprising, best examples I can remember — but for the most part it's still quite rare to come across something deliberately designed to bum you out. (You have achieved a trophy: "Pass the Kleenex." Wait, that sounds wrong.)

Anyway, two more chapters and I can stop freaking myself out with this game — there's a deliciously uncomfortable, oppressive atmosphere about the whole game that makes it quite "hard work" to play, but it's enjoyable in that perverse sort of way good horror is. Next on the agenda, portable-wise, anyway, is Sweet Fuse, aka That Game Where You Play as Keiji Inafune's Niece.

1325: Focal Point

I'm sure any writer pals reading this can probably relate, judging from some things I've read recently: it is infinitely easier to focus on negative things than it is about positive ones. And those negative things absolutely dominate your thoughts, almost completely obliterating any good work the positive things might have done.

Let's take an example. Recently, I wrote a lengthy article about "otaku games" — that particularly misunderstood aspect of Japanese gaming where people who don't play them constantly judge them as being nothing more than pervy fanservice. To be fair to their opinion, there often is a fair amount of pervy fanservice in them, but it's pretty rare that is the sole or even the most important part of them. Check out the piece here.

On the whole, response to the post has been very positive. I've been very happy to hear from a lot of fans of Japanese gaming who thanked me for giving a reasoned, rational take on the subject — with input from people who are actually involved in bringing these titles to the West — and for treating both the games and their fans with respect. I've had people tell me it's a wonderful article, compliment me on covering something that other sites don't bother with (or take the more common "This is Bad and Wrong, LOL JAPAN" stance on) and generally express a very genuine-feeling sense of appreciation for something I worked hard on.

So what do I find my brain focusing on? The guy who tweeted at me saying "TLDR" (seriously, that is pretty much one of the most disrespectful things you can say to a writer, especially when they've worked hard on something — try giving some constructive criticism or, even better, actually engaging with the points made in the piece), and the commenter who complained about me "not talking about the game" in my Tales of Xillia review and lambasting me for promoting an "incest simulator" in an article about visual novels. (Said "incest simulator" was Kana Little Sister, an incredibly moving work which I've written about at length in a number of places on the Internet; to refer to it as an "incest simulator" in a distinctly Daily Mail/Jack Thompson-esque way shows an astonishing lack of understanding, my keen awareness of which was what inspired me to write the "otaku games" piece in the first place.)

I wish I didn't feel this way, but it made me feel somewhat better to read this piece over on Hookshot, Inc recently. Here's what was, for me, the most pertinent part:

"Reader feedback is, in many ways, wonderful. It pulls writers down from pedestals and/or ivory towers, and it democratises a whole medium. Every voice is heard, and charlatans are uprooted. A culture of reader-fear has, arguably, been fostered – but ultimately people raise their game, and those much-suspected dirty deals are (by my reckoning) far less likely to occur today than they were five years ago.

"The problem is that all this is incredibly unhealthy for writers with… what you might call an ‘amiably complex psychological disposition’. I’m one of these people (it’s hugely common in my field – and indeed any creative arena) and I couldn’t even count how many of my working days have been ruined by an angry person venting steam beneath a piece I’ve written. The black dog starts barking, and your creative mojo runs away.

"Sure, the trolls are generally a minority – but when your mind has been built to concentrate on negativity rather than happy, happy, joy, joy (and you work at home, on your own) then comments threads are a mental plague pit.

"As a writer – what can you do about this? Well, you can start making your review scores more conservative for a start. Oh, and you can definitely avoid rocking boats that contain angry devotees of certain platforms, genres and franchises. Oh, and how about excising all humour for fear of miscomprehension from angry dullards you’ll never meet?

"OMG HANG ON GUYS OUR COLLECTIVE INSECURITY JUST BROKE GAMES WRITING.

"So basically: say what you want to say, and suck it up. There’s no wrong opinions, only a lot of people who think you should be fired for having a right one."

I was simultaneously surprised, delighted and slightly depressed to read that. I wish it didn't have to be that way, and I wish it was possible to train oneself to be more like, say, Jim Sterling — someone whom I greatly admire for his no-nonsense attitude and at least outward appearance of having thick skin. (For all I know, Sterling might finish his day job and cry himself to sleep over the torrents of abuse he receives on a daily basis, and I wouldn't blame him if that were so — but I somehow doubt that's the case anyway.)

Ah well, as Will Porter writes in that excellent Hookshot piece — seriously, go read it if you have a few minutes — the only real thing we, as writers, can do is say what we want to say and suck it up somehow. If we start sanitising our own opinions, thoughts and even writing styles to appease the lowest common denominator in the comments threads, then the world of writing would be a boring one indeed.

1324: Fury

I hate anger in all its forms — whether it's directed at me, coming from me or going on around me.

I'm not entirely sure where this feeling comes from — perhaps there's some sort of deep-seated trauma from some event in my past that I'm repressing — but it means I've always felt enormously uncomfortable whenever there's any sort of anger present near me, whether "near" means physically close to me or simply within my frame of awareness thanks to the Internet.

I remember getting extremely upset any time my parents would have an argument when I was little. However much I was assured that it was a natural part of any relationship, it still always filled me with anxiety. I felt that same feeling of anxiety whenever I got angry at school — usually the result of being bullied — and fearing that I'd lose control. And I feel the same thing today whenever there's anger around me — or coming from me. I get uncomfortable, restless — even physically shaky at times if I'm the one expressing anger — and I hate it.

Consequently, I find it increasingly difficult to deal with the seemingly-constant fury that comes from certain quarters of the Internet. If it's not one thing, it's another — there's always something out there pissing someone off, and they always want to talk about it at great length, usually with some sort of public shaming involved. And I just can't deal with it, frankly.

The natural response is, of course, to simply switch off, walk away or unfollow these people altogether but that brings with it a whole host of modern etiquette questions that we simply didn't used to have to worry about. If I unfollow, for example, a Twitter user who is mostly a decent person but who occasionally descends into mouth-frothing zealotry any time certain topics come up — to what I consider an unreasonable degree, regardless of how valid their points are — what will they think of me? What do I say if I ask them why I unfollowed them, assuming they notice? Am I honest about it? Or do I make up some lie about that probably fictional Twitter bug that makes it "randomly unfollow" people every so often? (Oh shit, did I let the cat out of the bag? Sorry.)

I am overthinking this issue, I'm sure; if people make me uncomfortable, I should just take myself out of that situation and prevent myself from getting drawn into something that would make me even more uncomfortable. The consequences I worry about might not even happen at all; if they do, I just have to deal with them. The fact I'm unable to participate in some discussions as a result is probably a good thing in the long term — there are plenty of other things out there that I can engage with, so I should focus my attention on those rather than things that make me anxious or uncomfortable.

This self-indulgent stream of consciousness brought to you by Internet Rage. Now I'm off to go and play Corpse Party in bed. Good night.

1322: Online Gamers Aren't Always Jerks

People who play games online are always dickwads, right?

Wrong. For starters, if you've ever taken that attitude, it's entirely possible that you aren't a dickwad yourself and just simply find the prospect of coming face to face with a dickwad distasteful — and thus it stands to reason that there are probably other people out there like you. (You may also take that attitude because you're a dickwad yourself, and use it as an excuse to behave like a dickwad. If that is the case, I'd encourage you to take a good, long, hard look at yourself, and perhaps indulge in some self-flagellation until you see the error of your ways.)

Anyway, I have a specific story that happened today — one that filled me with a pleasant amount of hope. It was only a little event in the grand scheme of things, but it was one where I felt happy after it had transpired.

A little context, first: Final Fantasy XIV allows you to play cooperatively with other players in one of two ways: either forming a party with them manually, or by letting a mechanic called the Duty Finder match you up with people who are looking to complete the same challenges. The advantage of the former option is that you can get together with people you know, or at least people on the same server with whom you'll be able to communicate with afterwards. The advantage of the latter option is that it allows you to play with the entire player base of the game, rather than just the 5,000 (maximum concurrent players at the time of writing) present on your specific server. Both approaches have drawbacks, though: in the former case, it can often be difficult to find people who are available at the same time who want to do the same thing; in the latter case, you're usually paired up with complete strangers, with all the inherent risks that carries.

Earlier today, I took on one of Final Fantasy XIV's dungeons with a party of random people found through the Duty Finder. Things were going reasonably well to begin with — though I would have preferred that the tank mark targets to help mages like me know what order to set fire to things — but after a while I started to notice one of the players behaving a little strangely.

Her in-game name was "Amelia," and she was a black mage like me. She'd obviously run the dungeon before, as she was regularly charging ahead well before the rest of us had got our bearings — sometimes even causing enemies to start attacking before we were ready. Partway through the dungeon, I could see her continually running off in the opposite direction to us, only to come running back when the tank started the next combat. I could tell she was getting frustrated, but she wasn't saying anything for some reason. So, once the next combat had finished, I spoke up.

"Amelia," I typed. "If there's something you'd like to show us, please say something rather than just charging off by yourself. Thanks!"

I gritted my teeth and was prepared for a barrage of abuse. A lot of online players don't like being told how to play the game and get very defensive if someone criticises them. I was all set for "Amelia" to start yelling at me, or even to quit the party in a huff. It wouldn't be the first time I had seen something happen.

What happened next surprised me.

"Yeah," she replied. "I was just thinking that myself."

The rest of the party stopped — the tank hesitated before pulling in the next group of enemies — and I could feel virtual eyes on me.

"Communication helps," I typed. "Is there some treasure down there or something?" I asked, referring to her continual attempts to run off to the south.

"Yes," she replied quickly. "There's two chests down there."

"Okay," I typed. "Let's go get those before we go any further then."

After that, we followed Amelia's lead and, sure enough, found our way to some extra enemies and some treasure chests. I was sure to thank her for her help, and when it came to time to fight the boss at the end of the dungeon, she volunteered some helpful information that ensured we were able to take it down without too much difficulty.

Ultimately, a bit of communication helped rescue a party that was at serious risk of falling apart. I'm not-so-secretly quite proud of the fact that I was the one to initiate communication and help hold things together — and I was very pleasantly surprised to discover "Amelia" was receptive to the things I was saying, and apparently knew she wasn't handling things as well as she could have done.

So wherever you are now, "Amelia," thanks. And I hope we get the chance to play together again soon.

1321: My Blog Post Can't Be This Cute

I thought I hadn't written about OreImo before, but apparently I have, and with almost the same title as this post, too. Oh well. I'm going to write about it again, then I'm going to watch the last two episodes that are disappearing from Crunchyroll at 9pm PT this evening, because I'm hooked.

OreImo, or, to give it its full title that I have to look up every time, Ore no Imouto ga Konna ni Kawaii Wake ga Nai (My Little Sister Can't Be This Cute) is a really interesting show that wasn't at all what I expected it was going to be, and it made that fact abundantly clear within a few moments of it starting. I was expecting some sort of lighthearted slice-of-life anime with a long-suffering male protagonist dealing with the wacky behaviour of his moe moe little sister. Instead, what I got was an intriguing exploration of a number of interesting characters, and a genuinely surprising story that I found hard to predict — not in the sense that it was chaotic, but in that I was never quite sure which direction they were going to take it.

I'll refrain from posting spoilers here in case you're intending to watch it, but suffice to say it explores a number of interesting themes: what it means to be an otaku; dealing with the conflict between your public persona and your "true self"; what it means to confide in someone; the nature of true friendship; and the fickleness of teenage love. There is also an undercurrent of "will they, won't they" incestuousness, which makes some people uncomfortable, but having watched (nearly) the whole series now I'm firmly convinced that this feeling of discomfort is entirely deliberate. I shall say no more on the matter for now.

The characters involved are all interesting to explore, too. The protagonist Kyousuke is a late-teens guy who clearly thinks he's going nowhere, and appears to be quite depressed about it as a result — along with the fact that, at the outset of the series, his relationship with his little sister Kirino appears to be broken beyond repair. The two series then unfold as he tries to repair the rift between them by attempting to understand her and her tastes a little better.

It's not just a two-hander, though — there are others involved, too, and they each have interesting roles to play. Kuroneko, for example, is a character even more obsessed with anime culture than Kirino is, and appears to live her life in a constant delusion that she actually is one of her favourite manga characters — or at the very least, puts across that impression in order to escape from reality. Saori, another "otaku" character that Kirino gets to know early in the series, is also escaping from reality, but for different reasons — to explain why, however, would be a spoiler, so I'll refrain from talking further.

At the other end of the spectrum is Ayase, Kirino's supposed best friend and someone who is not at all sympathetic to otaku culture and tastes. Seeing Ayase struggle to come to terms with the truth about her best friend — and her feelings for Kyousuke, for that matter — is one of the more interesting parts of the show. Plus she's kind of a badass, too.

It's nearly 1am here, but I have a couple of episodes to watch before sleep if I'm going to catch them before they're gone, so I'm out of here. Good night!

1320: Anime After Hours

I started a new anime discussion community over on Google+. You can find it here. If you're wondering why I chose Google+, the most-frequently-ridiculed-by-people-who-have-never-used-it social network on the Internet, it's because Google+'s Community tools are both really good and extremely simple to use, with unnecessary fluff kept to a minimum. Also, it's ad-free, which is lovely.

Anyway, my thinking behind creating the Anime After Hours community, as it's called, was relatively simple. There are a number of anime communities on G+ already, but the vast majority of them tend to end up doing the same things: posting pictures without context (usually with at least one commenter yelling at the poster to remember to put a source in their post); asking the same simplistic questions over and over again; playing tagging and meme games; and only discussing the most popular, mainstream titles.

This is all fine, of course; it's great that there are active communities that allow people to discuss the mainstream side of anime — stuff like Naruto, Pokémon and the like — and that are friendly to the younger end of the market. But, as any anime fan who's looked a little deeper into the medium will know, there's a lot more going on than just Naruto. A lot of anime is aimed at more mature audiences; late teens at the earliest, grown adults in some cases. And I'm not just talking about ecchi or hentai adult content; I'm also talking about shows that take in mature subject matter, or which are violent, or which kids simply wouldn't get.

As I watch more and more anime series and find myself discovering the things I like, I was becoming more and more conscious of the fact that there was a serious dearth of places for people around my age to discuss the medium — it's difficult to be heard in the rapid posts of G+'s more popular anime communities, for example, and they're not saying anything particularly interesting anyway. As such, Anime After Hours was designed as a place for people to come and discuss their favourite anime, whatever form that might take. It's an inclusive community that will accept anyone, on the understanding that it's a community for talking and discussing, not for superficialities. Already there's 13 members, which isn't that much, but we've started kicking off some interesting discussions — and I'm sure as (if?) more people roll in, the community will become more active.

So consider this your invitation, dear reader; if you're the slightest bit interested in anime and you've been looking for a place to come and discuss the medium free of Naruto-loving kids, you know where to come. All you need is a Google account.

See you there?

1319: The Fine Art of Working from Home Without Going Mental

The title of this post would probably suggest that I am something more of an authority on this subject than I actually am, but I do at least have the benefit of experience to draw from when talking about this.

Working from home may sound like an absolute dream come true, but it can be surprisingly challenging, particularly from a motivational perspective. I'm fortunate in that I like my job and enjoy doing it; if I was doing something less enjoyable like, say, the audio typing for insurance companies that I did for one dark summer, I'd probably be feeling less positive about things.

That's not to say that even with a job you enjoy, working from home isn't fraught with distractions from all angles, ranging from something as simple as a desire to go and get yet another coffee to the myriad procrastination tools The Internet offers.

I think the most difficult thing to deal with, though, is the fact that there's no-one else around. I'm not a particularly "social" person, as you know, and struggle with small talk, especially with people I don't know all that well. However, that's not to say that I don't necessarily enjoy company; on the few occasions I've been down to the Eurogamer offices in Brighton, I've enjoyed being around other people doing the same things I'm doing, even if most of them spent most of the day with headphones on, immersed in their own work. It was nice to just be around others, and to be able to jump in to occasional conversations.

In order to counter the loneliness thing, I often make a point of going out, even if it's just to the local coffee shop. (I've been there so often now that the staff recognise me, though I've stymied their attempts to pigeon-hole me with a "usual" by regularly ordering different drinks.) I find that it's quite pleasant to change environment and do some work with other people around, even if I don't have anything to do with them directly. There's just a nice atmosphere; a sense of comfort, of not being alone. Weird, I know, but true.

It's not an ideal situation, of course — it's over half a mile of walking to get to said coffee shop, and then when I'm there I'm expected to, you know, actually buy something, which costs money, but eh. I can take the rough with the smooth.

Perhaps what I should actually do is open up a coffee shop in my living room so there can be people milling around at all times while I do my work. But that sounds like an awful lot of effort, frankly.

Eh. There's no easy answer, and I'm not sure I'm even looking for an "answer" — I think, on balance, I'd rather be doing what I'm doing from home than feeling my life slowly being sucked out of me by a traditional office job.

I'll leave you with this Mitchell & Webb sketch, which pretty much sums things up rather nicely.