1255: A Realm Reborn, Redux

I really, really like Final Fantasy XIV.

There, I said it.

It may not be fashionable to like a new (well, rebooted) MMORPG that steadfastly follows the old-school subscription model, but given the alternative is the inherent restrictions and inconveniences of the free-to-play model or the regular badgering to check out the "cash shop" in pay-once-play-forever games, I'll take a few quid a month on the promise of gradually-evolving content.

I'm not going to rabbit on about the game itself here — I've already written two articles over at USgamer on that very subject — but I do want to talk about one thing I'm quite looking forward to: the game's social aspect.

A touch of context here: I have a pretty wide circle of friends, but unfortunately the vast majority of them are scattered across the globe, from California to Japan and everywhere (well, not everywhere) in between. I get to see the friends I have in the local vicinity every so often and we have a good time, but 1) I don't necessarily get to hang out with them as often as I'd like — none of us are in our twenties any more — and 2) not all of them are into the same things as me.

One thing I'm looking forward to with Final Fantasy XIV is the opportunity to make new friends. But I have some personal struggles to overcome in order to make that happen.

As longtime followers will know, I suffer from a degree of social anxiety, particularly when confronted with strangers. I worry a lot about what people will think of me, and my low self-esteem and low opinion of my physical appearance causes me to immediately believe people will think the worst of me.

So strong is this issue — and yes, I know I should do something about it; that's not really the issue here — that I've been surprised to discover myself having the same feelings of anxiety when playing online games. I'm actively afraid of voice chat with strangers, for example — a hangover from when I was young and really, really hated the sound of my own voice — and I even find myself hesitant to do what I feel would be "butting in" to online conversations in virtual worlds such as World of Warcraft and Second Life. I haven't hung out in Second Life for a very long time, but on more than one occasion I behaved in that virtual world's virtual clubs exactly the same way as I did in real clubs; I'd sit or stand at the side of the room, watching everyone, and wondering what it would be like to talk to that person over there, who I found quite attractive, or that person over there, who was wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with a design based on something I found interesting.

Well, I feel like I need to take control of this somewhat. While my issues with interpersonal interactions with strangers in "reality" are a more deep-seated issue that probably requires a degree of professional help (or at least a lot of self-discipline), I can do more about the online thing. I chat with people with no problem on Twitter, for example, and pretty much every means of online communication has some form of "safety net" where you can either "escape" from an uncomfortable situation or "mute" people who are bothering you. Chances are I won't need to use either of those things, but the knowledge that they're there is comforting.

So where does Final Fantasy XIV fit into all this, then? Well, once the current phase of the beta test ends and the characters everyone starts playing as become "permanent," I intend on actually making some new friends. I want to play with other people; I want to enjoy the game together with people who like it as much as I do.

I've been hesitant to join "guilds" or equivalents in MMOs in the past because I fear not being able to commit to the regular play schedules that they often require. But the more I think about it, the more I think it might be something worth pursuing. After all, at present, I have no regular "social" event in my weekly calendar; my board gaming nights with my best "real-life" friends are sporadic and irregular, and hanging out with everyone else tends to be a more "spur of the moment" thing. Why shouldn't playing Final Fantasy XIV be some sort of regular, albeit electronic, social event, in which I can get to know people and hopefully make some good friends? Stranger things have happened.

The reason I'm picking Final Fantasy XIV for this purpose? Because Final Fantasy XI is, out of all the MMOs I've tried over the years — and that's quite a lot — the one in which I found people whom I most enjoyed hanging out with virtually. I have no idea where the delightfully entertaining "Bendix" and "Nefertari" are now, but I do quite often find myself missing them. Obviously having some friends a long time ago in a completely different game is no guarantee that the same thing will happen in Final Fantasy XIV, but it's as good a starting point as any, I figure. I've long since abandoned all hope of getting existing friends to play with me in an MMO, because it's impossible to coordinate.

It remains to be seen whether this plan is successful once the game enters open beta and rolls ever-onward towards its August launch. But I feel strangely optimistic about this coming opportunity to meet some new virtual people; I can represent myself however I want in the game, with no-one pre-judging anything about me besides my character's name and their appearance. And since everyone in Final Fantasy land is impossibly attractive in that distinctively "Japanese video game" sort of way, I don't even really have to worry about that, unless I accidentally call myself Pooface McScruntyflange. Which I probably won't.

Anyway, in the meantime, rest assured that Final Fantasy XIV is shaping up to be something actually quite special, and I'm really looking forward to getting stuck into the game as a whole for realsies. Enthusiastic blog posts will undoubtedly follow once my "real" character is born.

1254: I Typed This Post (Except the Title) With My Eyes Shut

I've always been pretty good at touch-typing, so I thought it would be an interesting experiment to see how well I could type a blog post with my eyes shut. This is the result. I apologise in advance if it is completely indecipherable.

It's interesting, doing this, because it makes me realise how much I rely on muscle memory while I'm typing. I can visualise where the keys are in my head, which is all very well and good, but I can't tell whether or not I've made any typos in the process.

Actually, I sort of can. I can "feel" when I've typed something incorrectly (assuming my hands were in the right place in the first place) but going back to correct it when you're not looking at the screen is actually somewhat difficult.

I wonder how well I'm doing. More to the point, I wonder how many words I've typed so far.

I learned to touch-type when I was very young. I learned through the use of an Atari 8-bit computer and the use of computer magazines, which in the 80s tended to include type-in listing s for games and various other bits and pieces each month.

If you're too young to know what a type-in listing is, it's this: a program is printed in the magazine, and if you copy it into your computer's programming language BASIC and run it, you'd have a fully-functional program of some sort to play with — usually a game.

Usually these programs were written in BASIC so you could see how they worked and adapt them for your own purposes. However, sometimes they were written in machine code, which meant they were nothing but a string of numbers in hexadecimal format. Not something you can decipher at all, really.

Anyway, the reason I am so good (hopefully) at touch-typing today as I (possibly) am is because I spent so long copying these listings into my Atari. I'd type with my hands on the keyboard while simultaneously looking at the magazine. The magazines I read came with a special program that checked for typos when you were copying out listings, so you could make sure you'd copied everything exactly.

Anyway, through the process of copying out these programs while not looking at either the keyboard or the screen, I learned to touch-type pretty well.

I hope I haven't embarrassed myself by this post being completely indecipherable. I am also coming up with this nonsense on the spur of the moment like a freewriting exercise; I didn't plan anything beforehand. So hopefully you'll forgive the stream of consciousness that is currently erupting from my fingers.

I wonder how many words this is now. It feels a bit weird to be sitting here with my eyes closed. I'm actually quite sleepy, so I hope I don't suddenly fall asleep in the middle of typing this. I've had a few cups of coffee at my friend Tim's house this evening, though, so that's probably unlikely for an hour or two at least.

We'll see.

Anyway, I think I'm probably running out of patience for this little exercise, so I'm going to sign off at this point and publish the post as-is. If you can't read it because I've made too many mistakes, please bear in mind that I was typing it with my eyes closed. Can you do any better? Show me in the comments if so.

That's enough. Enough. STOP!

1253: Nepgagaga the Third

As I mentioned yesterday, alongside Atelier Rorona, I'm also finally getting around to playing the third Hyperdimension Neptunia game, Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory.

For those who haven't read my numerous enthusiastic rants on the previous entries in this much-berated series, allow me to get you up to speed.

The first Hyperdimension Neptunia was critically panned for numerous reasons, but I found myself enjoying it a huge amount despite its crap 3D graphics, repetitive gameplay and clunky mechanics. It established some immensely endearing characters, and it was largely this fact that encouraged me to check out the subsequent entry in the series.

Hyperdimension Neptunia mk2 was more of a reboot than a sequel, since it didn't really acknowledge the first game existed. It was superior in almost every respect — better graphics (though the frame rate was still on the low side), an almost infinitely better battle system, more streamlined mechanics and massively better music — but kept the things that were good about the original game: the wry, self-referential sense of humour; the endearing, memorable characters; the amusing setting; the gorgeous 2D art. It was one of the few games I actively wanted to play all the way through and see every single bit of content it had to offer — including the surprisingly dark "conquest" ending that took a considerable amount of effort to unlock.

Now, I'm playing Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory, the third game in the series. This is more evolution from mk2 than the revolution that mk2 was over the original, but that's fine; I loved mk2, so I'm happy to effectively play it again with a bunch of refinements. The adorably ditzy Neptune is back in the lead role this time around, after giving up the spotlight to her sister Nepgear in the previous game, and there's been a strong focus on the rather tsundere girl who represents the PlayStation platform, Noire so far in what I've played. (This is absolutely fine by me, as I have a total crush on Noire.)

I'm still quite early in the new game so far, so I'm hesitant to comment on it too much. What I instead wanted to mention was an Extra Credits episode I watched earlier today, in which the different between game mechanics, the dynamics they create and the aesthetic reasons to play were explored. It got me thinking about the various JRPGs I've been playing recently, and how not all of them would appeal to everyone — even among JRPG fans.

Given the diversity of the games industry today, it's very difficult and not particularly helpful to say that you're a fan of a specific "genre" of games any more, because these genres exclusively describe game mechanics. "I like RPGs," people will say, implying that they like games that involve hit points, statistics and equipment. And yet if I plonked Skyrim's biggest fan down in front of Hyperdimension Neptunia mk2, they'd probably look at me in disgust, walk out then never speak to me ever again. (I'm seeing my friend Tim tomorrow night, who is possibly the biggest Skyrim fan in the world; I might try it. Though he probably won't walk out of his own house in disgust.)

What we should actually start doing a little more is considering our tastes with regard to things like subject matter, mood and the aesthetics described in the Extra Credits piece. Hyperdimension Neptunia doesn't appeal to me because it's a JRPG — though I enjoy those mechanics and the related play aesthetics — it appeals to me because of its characters; because of its bright colours; because of its light-hearted nature and refusal to let you take it seriously. We're talking about a series of games where one special attack allows you to summon Keiji Inafune in the form of a sword, then hit things with it; and another where a girl using an electric guitar as a weapon smacks an enemy into a giant microwave and then turns it on for massive damage. We're talking about a series of games in which Sega, Sony, Nintendo and Microsoft's gaming platforms are personified as a series of young girls who rather aptly embody many of their inspirations' key characteristics.

Despite superficial similarities, I wouldn't necessarily expect someone who enjoyed, say, Ar Tonelico to enjoy Hyperdimension Neptunia — though there may be some crossover. (I love both, for example!) Ar Tonelico has its light-hearted moments but, for the most part, takes itself reasonably seriously; Neptunia, meanwhile, is flippant and silly. Both are emotionally engaging but in completely different ways; Ar Tonelico is dramatic and affecting; Neptunia feels like hanging out with old friends.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to playing more of Neptunia V, particularly as the story seems to have some interesting, mind-bending twists this time around. It's early days yet, but I'm already having a blast, and I anticipate spending a considerable amount of time on this game.

1252: The Alchemist of Arland

Now Ar Tonelico is over and done with, I've been able to start up some other games without guilt. Specifically, I made a start on Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory today, which I'll talk about in more detail in a day or two, as well as Atelier Rorona: The Alchemist of Arland.

This is my first encounter with the Atelier series. I do, in fact, own all three PS2 games (known as Atelier Iris) and all three PS3 Arland games (Atelier Rorona, Atelier Totori and Atelier Meruru) plus the first entry in the new Dusk series (Atelier Ayesha), but this is my first time playing them — they're all games that I picked up when I saw good deals a while back, and subsequently added them to my stack of Stuff I'd Like to Play at Some Indefinite Point in the Future.

From what I understand, each "subseries" in the Atelier franchise as a whole does things markedly differently. The PS2 games, from what I can make out, appear to be rather more conventional JRPGs with a lot of game mechanics brought across from the Ar Tonelico series — no bad thing. The PS3 games, meanwhile, if Atelier Rorona is anything to go by, are an interesting twist — and not at all what I expected.

In Atelier Rorona, you play the titular heroine, a young girl with a bit of a self-confidence problem. Rorona is currently employed in an alchemy workshop as a means of paying off a debt to the alchemist Astrid. Rorona is a lovely girl, but unfortunately Astrid is not particularly popular, and as such the kingdom of Arland is doing its level best to get her workshop shut down so factories can be built on its location. It's up to you to make sure that doesn't happen.

On the surface, Atelier Rorona resembles a fairly straightforward JRPG. You have big-eyed anime characters who chat to each other at great length via the medium of 2D emote portraits, text and voice acting. You have hit points, experience and levels. You have "dungeons". But it's not a JRPG. No, in fact, it's actually more of a strategy/management game, in which the most important thing is not pushing through the story or powerlevelling your characters, but instead making careful — very careful — use of your time.

The flow of gameplay in Atelier Rorona is pretty straightforward. Roughly every three months or so of in-game time, you're given an assignment by the kingdom of Arland; meet the deadline and everything's fine, but fail to meet the requirements and your alchemy workshop will be shut down, prompting an immediate Game Over. The assignments generally require you to turn in items of one or more different types, with your overall evaluation score for the assignment as a whole being calculated on a combination of the number of items you submitted in total, their quality, and the variety of different types of item you submitted.

Completing assignments isn't the only thing you have to do, though. No, as well as ensuring that your workshop survives for the next three months, you also have to try and improve its dreadful reputation by taking on smaller-scale quests for the local populace, and improve your relationship with your friends by taking on quests for them. And in the meantime, you need ingredients, of course, so you'll need to spend a few days every so often going on a jaunt into the forest/ruins/mines to go and collect things. And in order to protect themselves on said jaunts, your party needs equipment, of course, which means you need to synthesise the raw materials needed then take them to the friendly local blacksmith to forge them into something new.

It's initially overwhelming, but once you get into the groove of prioritising what you need to do vs. what you want to do, it's a lot of fun.

What I find particularly interesting is that while it's clearly a strategy game, its approach to things is very different to the high level of abstraction found in Western games. Were this a Western-developed game based on the same premise, you'd be spending a lot of time in abstract menus, dragging icons around and that sort of thing. Combat would perhaps be resolved automatically. There's nothing wrong with that approach, of course; it's just a little too dry for my tastes. Which is why I appreciate the amount of time and effort which Gust has made to infuse Atelier Rorona's tiny world with a great deal of character.

In order to do various things, you need to wander around town and visit people. In the process, you'll stumble across things happening on various occasions, with further events happening according to your friendship level with your various party members. We get a strong feeling of who Rorona is and how she relates to the people around her, not to mention a strong sense of unfolding narrative, but the core gameplay is straight up hardcore strategy/management.

It's actively stressful to play, but enjoyable in the process; there's just enough light relief with the characters and story sequences to keep things interesting. I'm already very much enamoured with the Rorona's rather tsundere best friend Cordelia, who hasn't explicitly said so yet, but clearly has a big chip on her shoulder about her short stature. I'm looking forward to the inevitable explosion about that at some point, but in the meantime I have a batch of incense to make that just won't wait…

1251: Bottomless Memory for Irrelevant Nonsense

I have, as the title suggests, a bottomless memory for completely irrelevant nonsense. I'm not sure how or why I have developed this particular characteristic, and it very rarely comes in handy, but there it is.

Occasionally it is a good icebreaker when hanging out with people that I have known for many years, as coming out with something that apparently only I remember often makes people laugh. And, as we all know, making people laugh is a good means of keeping a social situation going. (There are only so many times you can get away with starting a story with "Do you remember when…?" in a single gathering, however.)

I have no idea what causes my brain to remember the things it does, however. Let me give you an example, and you'll see that there's really no reason I should remember this particular incident.

When I was at school, a member of my main friendship group was a kid called Daniel. His main distinguishing features were his crooked teeth and his very outgoing, borderline insane nature — the latter of which frequently came to a head in Drama lessons. (An unrelated memory to the one I'm about to recount is the time my friends and I put together a short play called "The Time Trial of Dr. Paradox" in which Daniel played the titular villain, whose crowning moment was when he screamed "I want him tracked down by 2400 hours!" and knocked a small globe onto the floor, causing it to go rolling away and make our mutual friend Andrew almost piss himself with laughter.)

Our drama teacher for one year was actually also our school's headmaster at the time, one Mr Cragg. Mr Cragg was a pleasant sort of middle-aged man, all beard and jovial nature. He would have made a good Father Christmas if his hair was white. He enjoyed playing theatre games in Drama lessons, and one day we were playing one that involved fruit. I don't remember the exact game itself, but the bit of the memory I have inexplicably clung on to in the intervening 15+ years is the way in which Mr Cragg said the word "raspberry" ("Razzzberri!"), which my aforementioned friend Daniel found immensely amusing for weeks afterwards. He also found the word "Bilberry" similarly amusing, but that's fair enough; I found it quite amusing, too, because it sounded a bit like "dildo".

Well, okay, not really, but we were in our early teens; I'm not even going to pretend we had a particularly sophisticated sense of humour.

What puzzles me is how and why that memory has endured for so long. Why on Earth do I remember the way my old headmaster said the word "raspberry," and the fact my friend Daniel found it incredibly amusing? I find it difficult to believe that if I ever saw Daniel again — I haven't seen him since leaving school — that if I walked up to him and went "Razzzberri!" he'd have the slightest fucking clue what I was on about.

Ah well. I suppose it makes for good stories. Or at least confusing ones.

1250: Anger Leads to Suffering

I've been back on Twitter for a little while. I know I said I wouldn't, but for professional reasons, it made sense to have it as a means of communication now I'm on USgamer — I've already managed to get in touch with a number of different devs and write stories thanks to that bloody service.

Twitter remains infuriating, however, because people still don't quite seem to get that 140 characters is not a good amount of space in which to have a discussion. You can spill over into more and more tweets and rant on and on, but as soon as you start spamming like that, people switch off.

The other thing that Twitter encourages is kneejerk, usually furious responses. Sometimes these are justified; other times, all they do is damage the perception of the people who are trying to make otherwise coherent arguments.

By far the most consistently-occurring issues that come up in my Twitter feed are matters relating to any and all of sexism, feminism and transphobia in particular. As I've said on numerous occasions in the past, I support the causes that these people are trying to forward: women are just as awesome as men and should be treated as such; a person is a person, regardless of biological sex and/or gender, and shouldn't be treated as a second-class citizen based on prejudice; most importantly, just don't be a dick.

However, where the people campaigning for these things lose me is in their behaviour when it comes to advancing their causes. I do not and will not believe that the best way to enact change is to get really fucking angry at something, mock people who don't subscribe to your exact viewpoint and then publicly shame people repeatedly until they clam up and don't want to say anything. That shit is viral — if you behave that way, people will see the way you act towards others, and that in turn will make them not want to engage in discussions we should all feel confident and good about having. In trying to further a cause of equality and encouraging oppressed minorities to stand up for themselves, in other words, you're actually silencing people in the process. It doesn't matter whether those people you silence are the "privileged" — usually white men — because all you're doing is… doing what you want people to stop doing. Do you see where the problem is, here?

Most recently, Mike Krahulik of Penny Arcade attracted the ire of these particularly vocal people on Twitter by making some ill-advised and ill-informed comments about transgender people. This isn't the first time he's said something stupid, and it probably won't be the last. I honestly believe he's not saying these things from a position of genuine hatred; he's just naturally a jerk towards a lot of people — and, as he notes in an apology on Penny Arcade, the first time these issues raised their heads he wasn't even aware of many of them. To be fair to him for a moment here, I knew absolutely nothing about transgender people at all prior to this year, either; the subject simply hadn't come up, so it's not at all unreasonable to assume that he hadn't come into contact with this particular group of people before and thus didn't know the "appropriate" or "acceptable" ways in which to talk about them.

There's a degree of common sense required here, of course, which Krahulik didn't always display, particularly as the most recent incident was actually the second time he had run headlong into being perceived as "transphobic", but for him to be immediately labelled a "bigot", a "sexist" and outright insulted is, frankly, a little much. People don't teach you these things. (Well, perhaps they do now; it's a long time since I was at school and took a Humanities lesson.) And as such, when people are confronted with unfamiliar things, sometimes mistakes are made; things are said without thinking; sometimes offence is caused. The appropriate response to someone making a mistake is to point out that they made a mistake and then educate them so they don't do it again in the future.

Key point: both the pointing out of the mistake and the education should be done in a calm, respectful manner that acknowledges ignorance isn't the same as bigotry. If your first response to someone saying something that you believe is offensive is to start swearing at and insulting them, then of course they are going to get defensive and start flinging mud back at you rather than attempting to engage with you — particularly if they don't understand what they did wrong in the first place, however silly that might seem to you as someone more well-informed.

It's a natural response; look at how children respond to being yelled at as opposed to having positive behaviour reinforced, or calm explanations as to why the thing they were doing was inappropriate. These reflex behaviours continue well into adulthood for many of us; no-one likes to feel like they did wrong, so the more aggressively people shout and scream, the more the recipient of the ire will dig their heels in and just escalate the whole situation. In Krahulik's case, this happened previously with the "rape culture/dickwolves" incident a while back — people yelled, he got defensive, discussion was shut down before it could begin — and again with this more recent incident.

There are a number of sad things about this whole situation. Krahulik could have had the opportunity to learn about part of culture he's unfamiliar with, but the immediately aggressive response shut down any hope of rational discussion and education and caused him to get defensive. The aggressive response didn't stop, either; it grew and grew into a seething ball of hatred, with people referring to him and his Penny Arcade partner Jerry Holkins (who had remained very quiet throughout this whole debacle — a sign which some saw as tacit approval of Krahulik's actions) as "dicks" and other, far more spiteful terms. People started calling for boycotts of PAX. One indie developer even publicly pulled out of PAX's indie showcase.

None of this had to happen, and it is not solely Krahulik's fault that it did. He's not blameless at all, no, but I place as much blame for the subsequent fallout squarely at the feet of the people who did the aggressive yelling, the swearing, the insults, the death threats as I do at the feet of Krahulik. This could have been an opportunity for everyone involved to grow; instead, it was just yet another sign that people like nothing more than a good fight rather than actually talking and educating one another. And I worry that serious damage has been done on all sides of this issue; there are no winners here.

The really sad thing, I think, is how much this sort of thing erects barriers between people. Every time I see something like this happening, I feel genuinely afraid to open my mouth for fear of saying something that will make everyone hate me; and that little nagging voice in the back of my head says "you're not allowed to have an opinion on this; you're a privileged white male". I have seen how quickly people can turn on someone for one little thing that they said, and no-one will ever back down or attempt to understand or educate. It's just shout, shout shout. It kills discussion. It kills education. And it achieves the absolute opposite of what many of these "social justice" types are supposedly fighting for; instead of promoting inclusivity and harmony, it sows discord and excludes people. We're better than that.

So everyone, try a little harder to get along and understand one another, please.

1249: Platinum

Finally finished Ar Tonelico Qoga as much as it is possible to finish it tonight. I saw every ending, got every PSN trophy (including one that required me to go back and replay a good three hours due to an inadvertent mistake I made, and that ABSOLUTE COCK of a "find every treasure chest" trophy) and generally had my money's worth several times over.

All told, the experience took me in excess of a hundred hours altogether. Given that I exhausted literally every piece of content that game had to offer, I'm happy with that. Were there more content, I would have probably continued, but as it stands, I feel very satisfied with what I've experienced.

A hundred hours is a long time to spend on a single piece of entertainment, and there was a growing movement a while back in favour of shorter, more easily-digestible games. To be honest, I can see the appeal — it's nice to sit down to play something and know that you're almost definitely going to finish it — but at the same time there's something immensely gratifying in a game that takes this long to exhaust the possibilities of.

A hundred hours isn't actually a particularly long period of time to be required to see everything in a role-playing game, however. Persona 3 and 4 each take approximately a hundred hours to finish normally, let alone collecting all the Personas, completing all the sidequests and levelling up enough to beat The Hardest, Most Irritatingly Cheap Secret Boss in the Known Universe. If you delve into all that extra content, it's entirely possible you could add at least another 50-100 hours on top of that base figure. I must confess to having never actually finished a Persona game in this manner — generally, by the time I get to the end, I'm exhausted and ready to move on to something else. This is a compliment to the game's story, incidentally — Persona games are deliberately emotionally exhausting, and the palpable sense of relief you get from beating the final bosses in them remain among some of my favourite moments in gaming.

Where's the sweet spot? And what was it about Ar Tonelico Qoga that made me want to see absolutely everything it had to offer, regardless of how long it took?

Well, in part, it's because everything I did felt like meaningful content. Sure, I had to repeat some story bits several times over, but there were differences here and there that kept me paying attention. Nothing felt grindy; my characters hit level 99 naturally while I was doing other stuff, so it was pretty rare that I'd find myself running around in circles waiting for enemy encounters. Similarly, crafting was a pleasure, because the enjoyable combat meant that I'd been inadvertently stocking myself up on ingredients without realising it over the course of the whole game and thus never had to go hunting for anything in particular. And when I did craft something new, I was rewarded with one of the many delightful intra-party scenes where the characters discuss whatever the hell it is they're putting together this time, and Aoto can embarrass himself in some new and exciting way. ("Every man's number one fantasy is a drill!")

I can't help comparing and contrasting with my experiences in something like Skyrim, which I played and sort of enjoyed for about 35-40 hours or so, then gave up on without getting anywhere near the conclusion of the main plot. It just wasn't interesting. It didn't draw me in. I felt like I was walking around a diorama rather than a living world; a model populated by mannequins who all said the same thing rather than a world filled with actual people.

Your average JRPG's worldbuilding is all an illusion, of course — if anything, most JRPG worlds are even more static than those seen in Western RPGs, but a great deal more character is added by making every single character unique, regardless of their relevance to the overall narrative. This is something that Ar Tonelico did consistently well throughout — NPCs would change what they said according to the point in the story where you visited them, allowing for the exploration of some completely irrelevant but fun little mini-stories in the process.

Anyway. That's that. Now I have to decide what's next. While I'm mildly tempted by The Last of Us, I find myself wondering if I'll feel like I got my money's worth if it's over in 10 hours or so. Perhaps I'll wait until the price comes down a bit, as I have no real interest in the multiplayer modes. In the meantime, I have a pile of shame the size of a house to start on, and doubtless you'll hear all about what I'm going for next very soon.

1248: OneEighty

So Microsoft reversed its stance on almost everything about Xbox One. I'll probably write something a little more detailed about this professionally tomorrow, but I thought I'd indulge in some general musings on here while it's fresh in my mind.

In case you haven't seen the news yet, here's the relevant post, in which Microsoft explains it's backtracking on almost every single contentious policy that it outlined prior to E3, and which had a significant proportion of the game-playing Internet up in arms.

On the whole, it's good that Microsoft has at least put across the image of being receptive to feedback and willing to act on it, though the ridiculously slow pace at which this news was revealed doesn't fill me with confidence. Negative public and press reaction alike was already swirling around the Internet even when it was just rumours about 24-hour checkins and restrictions on used games; I find it difficult to believe that Microsoft doesn't have at least a few social media monkeys on the payroll who would have noticed this sort of thing. And yet they went ahead and announced their plans anyway.

I'm not sure what they were hoping to achieve. They didn't even attempt to put a positive spin on the restrictions — they were just flat-out restrictions on things you could and could not (mostly the latter) do with your new console and your games. Restrictions that would have made the console completely inoperable in a number of countries on launch — including, amusingly, the homeland of The Witcher 3 developers CD Projekt Red, who were just as surprised to discover the restrictions as the rest of us were.

By posting this "We're Listening" stuff today, they're attempting to paint themselves as the good guy; the massive corporation who listens to Internet outcry and responds accordingly in a seemingly positive manner.

However, there are a few problems with this. They're all hypothetical situations, of course, but none of them bode particularly well for Microsoft in the future. Let's examine them one at a time.

Firstly is the possibility that the whole thing was a carefully-orchestrated PR stunt, which isn't beyond the realm of possibility. Announce a series of ridiculous restrictions on the Xbox One, then a week or two later, announce that you've "listened" to the public and relaxed said restrictions, come out looking like the good guy.

Secondly is the fact that if it's that easy for them to turn off these features on the system — the relaxing of the restrictions will apparently come from a day one patch that — oh snap — you need to be connected to the Internet to download — then it will be just as easy for them to turn them back on again without warning in the future. I'd like to hope that they're not that stupid, but… well, they announced this shit in the first place, so it's going to be a while before they earn the benefit of the doubt in my eyes again.

Thirdly is the fact that this was even considered. This suggests that Microsoft is keen to adopt some form of online strategy like this in the near future, and that if it didn't work like this, it could well be implemented in a much more insidious way.

As I say, most of this is conjecture for now, so I'll leave it at that. It's going to be interesting to see if Microsoft sticks to its promises, though, because they destroyed a lot of people's trust with this whole debacle.

1247: Easy Listening, Part 3

I'm feeling marginally lazy, so I thought I'd continue with a post style I last did some time ago. Yes, it's time for a soundtrack post. And, if you know what I've been playing recently, you'll probably know the subject of said soundtrack post. That's right, it's Ar Tonelico!

(Note to those who are sick of me rabbiting on about this series: I'm closing in on absolutely, positively and completely finishing the third and final game in the series, so short of deciding to run through the whole trilogy again — which I promise I won't do for at least a year or two — you will be subjected to enthusing about something else from thereon. Indulge me a little while longer, however.)

The Ar Tonelico series has consistently fantastic soundtracks, but there's a clear divide in them between the "game" music and the vocal, choral "Hymnos" pieces that mark special events in the story. Today I'm going to focus on the latter and share some of these astonishing pieces of music with you. I urge you, even if you normally skip past the promise of "video game music", to listen to these in their entirety: they're simply gorgeous pieces of music in their own right, and carry a significant amount of emotional weight to them when heard in context.

Let's begin, then. I'll try and refrain from spoilers while discussing these, but be aware that the lyrics shown in some of the videos may constitute mild spoilers.

This piece, known as EXEC_LINCA — pretty much all the Ar Tonelico Hymnos songs are named like computer processes or programs — marked the moment that made me sit up and pay attention to the music of this series. Up until this point, the music had been competent, even memorable and catchy, but it wasn't until this piece that I had to just sit back for a moment and take in the majesty of what I was hearing. This led to some rather conflicting feelings, as the moment in the story where this song comes up is a very dramatic one that makes you want to keep pushing forward — but, of course, pushing forward runs the risk of causing the music to end sooner!

In stark contrast to EXEC_LINCA, EXEC_CHRONICLE_KEY is a much more restrained, majestic piece for the most part. To say too much more about it would constitute spoilers, but suffice to say the time when this piece plays is a moment of significant emotional significance in the story of the first Ar Tonelico game, Melody of Elemia.

A significant proportion of Ar Tonelico 2 is spent attempting to assemble the legendary Hymnos Metafalica, which supposedly has the power to magically create new land. This version is the first time we hear half of the Metafalica theme, known as EXEC_METAFALICA.

Here's the second half, known as METHOD_METAFALICA.

And here's what happens when you put the two pieces together: possibly one of the most spectacular, beautiful pieces of music I've ever heard. Also noteworthy for the moment near the beginning where the two singers are singing in binary code.

Here's a strongly-contrasting piece from elsewhere in Ar Tonelico 2. This one technically isn't a Hymnos piece, being in Japanese, but it's a lovely little song that accompanies a rare moment of calm in that game's storyline. It's called "Hartes ciel, melenas walasye", which translates to "Beloved World, Beloved People."

And on to Ar Tonelico Qoga, the third and final game in the series. Give this one a moment to get going; it starts slow and gentle, then builds to a furious climax that truly gets the blood pumping.

And I'll leave you with this one, a grand, majestic piece that accompanies an important story moment in the latter third of Ar Tonelico Qoga. Again, to say too much more would be to spoil it, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the regal nature of this piece.

I hope you enjoyed these pieces. If you've never played the Ar Tonelico series, rest assured that the music alone makes these three games more than worth playing — it helps enormously that they're all excellent games in their own right, too.

1246: Eeeeee Three

It occurs to me that I don't think I've written my own personal thoughts on E3 and the stuff therein yet. Allow me to rectify that.

Let's start with the Xbox One. While it would be tempting to just write "HAHAHAHAHAHA" and leave it at that, Microsoft's strategy, if you can call it that, bears some examination.

The Xbox One was received very negatively when it was first announced, thanks to the reveal's focus on the box's TV aspect. Things didn't get much better when Microsoft revealed an FAQ document detailing the fact that yes, the things everyone had been fearing — the console needs to "phone home" once every 24 hours via the Internet; publishers may choose to restrict the resale and/or trading in of games if desired; you can "pause" Kinect but you can't turn it off — were all true.

The company's E3 presentation was reasonable, but didn't show anything that particularly blew me away. We had Call of Duty: Roman Wars, sorry, I mean Ryse: Son of Rome and a host of other stuff so uninspiring that I can't remember a goodly proportion of it. The few things that were genuinely interesting and outside the "norm" were glossed over; Below, a new title from Sworcery and that weird Might & Magic puzzle RPG that was actually really good developer Capybara was given a minute-long trailer with no explanation, for example.

However, as I wrote over on USgamer the other day, these press conferences aren't designed for people like me — they're designed for people who, for want of a better term, don't know any better. They're designed for the more casual gameplaying public and shareholders, in other words, and consequently need to show off the biggest, the best, the most exciting-looking. It's unfortunate that a significant proportion of the "core" gamer population is growing increasingly weary of the biggest, the best, the most exciting-looking, particularly as their favourite studios regularly suffer rounds of layoffs when, say, their five million-selling game "isn't performing to expectations" or some such nonsense.

All in all, I was left underwhelmed by Xbox One. I didn't see a single title that sold the system to me, and Microsoft's determination to make the platform even more closed off and irritating than it already is is just baffling. It's like they're looking at feedback and then doing the exact opposite. That can't be good business, surely.

—

As for the PS4, I was impressed. I can live without all the social nonsense, though I can see that being a bit of fun on occasion — so long as you can turn it off. The fact that Sony simply said "we're doing things the way we do now" and they got a round of applause says it all, really, though; it's not a case of people being "set in their ways", it's a case of people actively wanting to resist the suspiciously anti-consumer practices that Microsoft are trying to put in place.

Let me go off on a tangent to explain for a moment.

I like owning my games as physical copies, particularly on console. I feel less strongly about this on PC for a reason I haven't quite worked out, but given the option between getting a physical copy and a digital download on console, I will always, without fail, go for the disc.

The primary reason for this is that I want to always be able to play this game, even if, say, PSN no longer exists one day in the distant future. A secondary reason is that I enjoy displaying my collection the way a movie buff displays their DVDs, a music lover displays their CDs and/or records, and a book lover displays their books. There's a growing movement to "declutter" our lives from all this stuff we've collected over the years, and I really dislike it, because it encourages us to think of things as impermanent. While it can be a pain to store and move all this stuff, I know that if I got rid of any of it, I'd regret it. Sure, once I'm done with, say, Ar Tonelico Qoga it's unlikely that I'll go back to it in the immediate future, but what about five years down the line when I hear a snipped of EXEC_COSMOFLIPS and think I'd really like to relive Aoto's adventures?

I'm saying all this for a reason: PS4 fills me with more confidence than Microsoft does in this regard. Xbox One will have disc-based games, sure, but it's abundantly clear that Microsoft mean business on the whole "you are licensing this piece of software, you don't own it" thing that everyone ignores in EULAs these days. We still don't have a straight answer in place for them on what happens when Xbox Live goes down, or when you don't have Internet access, or when your account gets banned or hacked… or years into the future when the Xbox One is a "retro" console and Xbox Live doesn't exist in the same form, or perhaps at all. Can you still play your games? Or does the lack of authentication render them completely useless?

Video games are the only art form where I see this discussion happening, and we're drifting in the wrong direction. As modern games get more and more advanced, they become more and more worthy of preservation as genuine works of art. And yet with each passing console generation seemingly determined to get more and more restrictive and based around connectivity, it's a real concern to me that some of these titles will one day be lost forever.

Anyway. It remains to be seen whether Sony does anything stupid between now and the PS4 coming out — because this is Sony, let's not rule it out — but at present, I'm feeling much more confident about them than Microsoft.

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As for Nintendo, well, they're Nintendo. Nintendo has always been happy bumbling along doing its own thing… and I'm absolutely fine with that. I have no need for them to try and compete with PS4 and Xbox One or try to become yet another Call of Duty machine. I have no issue with the third-party support that people were whingeing about all the way through the Wii's lifespan but which didn't hurt its profitability at all.

What Nintendo machines do are provide "pure games" — experiences which tend not to have any aspirations to be considered "art", but which provide excellent examples of simply entertaining and fun things to do. For this reason, I'm actually relatively excited to see things like Wii Party U, as Nintendo Land is a big favourite any time friends come over; having something with even more games to play together will be even better.

Anyway, I'm not sure if anyone "won" E3 for me, because I didn't really come away from the show thinking "I MUST BUY THIS GAME THE SECOND IT COMES OUT" with regard to anything, but it was certainly an interesting show. The coming console generation is going to be an intriguing one to watch, and I have a feeling that Microsoft is going to get its nose bloodied more than once in the process. Whether that will take them down completely or just relegate them to the position Sony spent most of this generation in remains to be seen, but it's going to be a hell of a fight to watch.